


New Beginnings In A Small Town

by NaughtySammyBoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bitchslapping, Cheating . . . kinda, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Feels, Mentions of past abuse, Sam's a damn artist, Smut, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Violence, You're a mystery wrapped up in secrecy, a very brief mention of past rape (I don't come out and say the actual word), make-up sex, mentions of past alcoholism and violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5407250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtySammyBoy/pseuds/NaughtySammyBoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When your past becomes too much for you to handle, you skip town and just drive. You end up in a town much smaller than the city you'd called home for years. You don't expect it to call out to you but it does. You meet Sam Winchester; part time unpaid artist and part time handyman for the town. You don't expect to fall for him on the spot but you do. Then, when both your and Sam's pasts come back to haunt the two of you, will your relationship be shattered completely or can it survive the unthinkable?</p><p>****Not sure when this will be updated again****</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start Of A Different Life

**Author's Note:**

> The rating will change once the smut starts, but that'll come later on in the story, my friends, I promise ;) I'll also add more tags as the story progresses. I hope you enjoy my first multi-chapter story!

You breathe in a long pull of fresh air, finally able to stretch your tired limbs after spending hours cramped in the driver's seat of your car. It's loaded down with everything you own—well, everything that would fit anyway. You'd spent the night just driving until the gas light came on, ending up in a small, rural town just outside of Charlotte, North Carolina just as the sun had started to rise. You don't know where you're going or if you'll even stay, but a rush of calm overtakes you as you take in the scenery of the sleepy little town, the vast openness of fields behind it and the cute little stores that line the street you're currently parked along—rightfully named _Main Street_.

 

It's so different from the place you'd just ran away from. The big city you'd called home for the past ten years seemed to be a million lifetimes away as you walked along the cobblestone pathways, looking in store windows of the shops that were still closed. It was then you realized just how suffocated you had felt before now, the walls of your past caving in on you and practically chocking the life from your lungs. You made a promise then to yourself that your past was gone forever and it no longer would plague the new life you were striving to create.  And this little town was starting to seem more and more perfect for just that as you traveled through its streets and watched it slowly come to life as the morning dragged on.

 

You gasped when you turned a street corner, your eyes glued to a mural painted across a brick wall. The colors were vibrant, blues and reds and purples colored the different types of flowers etched into the brick, making them pop and come to life before your eyes. You noticed it was only half finished, but the beauty of its beginning was enough to take your breath away. 

 

You're not sure how long you stood there just admiring the work before a deep voice rumbles, "Didn't think my unfinished mural was enough to make someone stare at it for _that_ long."

 

You turn on your heels, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your pea coat as a nervous habit and taking in the sight of the man before you. He's tall, like _really_ tall. His hair is chestnut brown, shoulder-length and glimmering in the morning sun and for a split second, you have the urge to run your fingers through it because it just looks _that_ soft. His eyes are blue— _no_ , they're honey and green and blue and— _remarkable_ in the natural morning light. He's got handsome features and a handsome grin, a sharp contrast against the bland and paint-stained jumpsuit he's wearing.

 

This man is _stunning_.

 

"Oh, I uh—I was just . . . taking a walk and saw it," you motion to the mural awkwardly, "It's really . . . "

 

"Unfinished?"

 

" _Beautiful_."

 

He smiles then, his perfectly aligned teeth making an appearance as a small chuckle slides through them. "Well, thank you," he nods, "I take it you're new to town?" His eyes sparkle with curiosity and something akin to humored interest. 

 

"What makes you say _that_?" You shrug, smothering a smile and narrowing your eyes at him playfully. 

 

"Well, I've lived here all my life; know just about everyone there is to know here and I _think_ I would remember seein' you around," he smiles, squatting down and opening a wooden box that you figure is filled with paint supplies. 

 

"Okay, so maybe you're _right_ , maybe I _am_ new to town," you chuckle, looking away from him as you feel your cheeks grow warm. You look at him again just in time to see him pick up a metal canister that he's dragging a clean paint brush through.

 

He regards you for a few seconds before looking down at what he's stirring. "Hope you don't mind me askin'," he quirks an eyebrow at you and waits for you to nod and shrug before adding, "What brings you to a town like _this_? We're not even on a map." He chuckles after that, walking past you to get the brick wall behind you.

 

You watch him outline a sketch of what you guess is going to be a sunflower with white paint as you say, "This is just where I happened to stop."

 

"Oh, so _chance_ brought you here?" He turns his head to smile at you.

 

"Yeah," you smile back but quickly look down to hide your blushed cheeks, "Guess you could say that."

 

"I'm Sam, by the way. Sam Winchester."

 

"Y/N," you reply, accepting his hand when he holds it out to shake, "Just Y/N for now, I don't know you well enough to give you my last name." You're joking and Sam can automatically tell by the way your eyes glimmer with humor. "Y/N Y/L/N."

 

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Y/N. Welcome to my little town."

 

You desperately try to ignore the way your name sounds rolling off his tongue like it was melted butter.

 

After a polite farewell to Sam, you make your way back to your car and drive around until you find a cute little bed and breakfast that's got you smiling like a fool because it looks like it's right out of movie. A sappy, twangy-music-filled movie. And when you see the woman at the front desk, you can tell she's as sweet as sugar. She's smiling and welcomes you immediately, her aged face shining and making you feel at home. When she asks how long you're staying all you say is, "I think I'll play it by ear, see how things go." She nods and sets you up with keys to your room and a lunch menu after you've paid in cash, telling you that the small dining area is still open for breakfast if you're interested.

 

The food at the B&B is like a God send, the homemade taste making your tummy feel warm and full, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you've found what you've been looking for. _Calmness_ ; a sense of a place you could call home. 

 

Once you're belly's full and you feel like you've made an outright pig of yourself, you decide to grab a few bags from your car so you can shower and change. Maybe take a little nap. Sleep comes easy and before you know it, it's dinner time. You're not too hungry so you decide to take a walk instead, get to know the little town a little bit more, find out what makes her special.

 

Outside next the bed and breakfast, there's an open barn. There's three horses inside, all different but equally beautiful. You smile and chuckle as the all black one stretches it's neck to accept your gentle hand, rubbing it's snout against your palm and huffing in acceptance of your presence. "You sure are pretty," you whisper to it like it’s a secret, grinning when it shakes its head and huffs again.

 

When you finally turn to retreat you're met with the flash of a large body, your own body colliding with the solidness of it and causing you to fall on your ass in the hay on the ground beneath you. Your loud, punched-out _humph_! fills the air as you land and you gasp in shock when you finally hit the floor, the force enough the knock the air right from your lungs.

 

"Jesus, I'm so sorry!" You hear a familiar voice ring out, making you look up and see an apologetic Sam looking down at you. He quickly grabs you by the upper arms and hauls you up effortlessly, like you weighed no more than a pillowcase filled with feathers. "I didn't mean to stand _that_ close, just saw you walk in here and wanted to see how you were liking the town so far." 

 

His pitiful attempt at a smile is enough to make you forgive him. "It's okay," you assure him, swiping your hands back over your denim-clad ass and thighs to rid it of the dirt and hay. "Has anyone ever told you you're like . . . a _ninja_? Because I didn't even hear you come in here."

 

Sam chuckles and you swear you see his cheeks tinge pink, as well as the tips of his ears peeking out from where his long hair falls around them. "No, but thanks, I guess?" 

 

You notice he's carrying a toolbox instead of a wooden box full of art supplies like he was earlier. "So, not only are you an _amazing_ artist but you're a handyman, too?" You smile, shuffling on your feet and trying so hard to ignore the tingle his presence sends up your spine. I mean, you don't even really _know_ this man. How can he possibly make you feel this _foolish_?

 

"Well, art is kind of like my hobby. Being a handyman is what pays my bills," he tells you, shrugging at the last part.

 

"Yeah well, I say you should be paid for your mural. It's beautiful, _exquisite_ even," you compliment him, giving him a sweet smile. Sam returns it and quickly looks down at his feet to hide his reddened cheeks.

 

"It ain't _that_ special," he murmurs, shrugging once again.

 

You scoff playfully, "Oh, come on! Don’t be so _modest_ , Sam. I _wish_ I had your skill, I can't even draw acceptable stick figures, for God's sake." This sends Sam into a series of laughs that make your stomach turn into a butterfly exhibit. When silence settles in, your eyes meets Sam's and you admire the way his eyes look in the low light of the barn, honey and whiskey and emerald all at the same time. 

 

"I know this may seem a bit forward, and I'll _completely_ understand if you decline since I'm practically still a stranger to you but—" Sam clears his throat and scratches at the back his neck, his gaze deflecting yours. "If you need a tour guide—someone to show you around the town—I wouldn't mind helpin’ you out."

 

You bite at your bottom lip and wring your hands in attempt to stop the girlish giggle that threatens to escape your throat. "That sounds great. I mean, you _obviously_ know this town very well since you've lived here _all_ your life as you mentioned before," you observe, using information he'd divulged earlier in the day. "There wouldn't be a better person for the job . . . as my tour guide." Part you of wants to scream for how awkward that whole sentence sounded coming out of your mouth, but Sam's grin in response is bright enough to outshine your embarrassment.

 

"Great!" Sam exclaims, making your eyebrows rise in surprise and a horse startle at the volume of it. He chuckles nervously soon after, almost awkwardly when he realizes just how loud he had been. "I'll uh—we can start tomorrow morning. How's nine sound? Maybe we can grab some breakfast at this great little diner downtown before?" He asks, his right hand white-knuckling the tool box handle in its grasp.

 

"That sounds amazing, we can meet in the lobby of the bed and breakfast tomorrow morning," you nod, rocking on your feet as a ripple of excitement travels through your body. _This is absolutely insane_ , you think; less than twenty-four hours in a new town and you're already falling for the man with tousled brunette hair in a paint-stained jumpsuit and a smile that could kill if he tried hard enough.

 

"Perfect," Sam grins, revealing a single dimple that makes your knees nearly buckle underneath you. We're all the men in this small town this _handsome_?

 

If so, you were in _trouble_. 

 

* * *

 

 

After a night of tossing and turning, giggling in the dorkiest way, and hiding your face in the plush B&B pillow to hide your goofy ass smile; you rouse from your bed at seven to start getting ready. There's a small, uncontrollable voice in the back of your mind screaming at you, telling you all the things you didn't want to hear, awakening a fear you had so desperately tried to push down and never experience again.

 

_He's just like the rest of them. He's just got to break your heart like the last one did. He's going to ruin you._

 

You fight the feeling it gives you, getting ready and trying to distract yourself with makeup and hair supplies. It takes you thirty minutes alone to decide what to wear. It's fall and the chill in the air cancels out any item of clothing without sleeves or legs. You decide on a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, coupled with a pair of battered combat boots that are worn and have weathered the worst. You decide on a deep red long sleeve shirt, hidden under your black pea coat and a smoky-grey scarf. You soon decide that your appearance is as good as it’s going to get, opting to head to the lobby before you end up stripping down and searching for an entirely different outfit.

 

_It's not a date._

 

Or at least, you don't _think_ it is. Sam's just going to be your tour guide. Nothing more, nothing less. _Just_ a tour guide. 

 

When you make your way down the stairs of the cottage-like B&B, Sam's already waiting for you in the lobby, regardless of the fact that it’s only 8:45. You smile when you notice he watches as you ascend down the last few steps, his lips holding a matching smile. "Ready for a tour you're likely to never forget?"

 

"Oh _god_ , you're not gonna, like, murder me in an alleyway or something, and then wear my skin as a coat, are you?" You tease.

 

"Huh, not sure yet," he shrugs, holding out his arm for you to take hold of as he adds, "Let's see how the day progresses and _then_ I'll make my decision."  His grin is face-splitting as he listen to you laugh in response, tossing your head back for a split second before pulling it back up and giving him an eye roll. You slide your arm through the loop of his and allow him to guide you towards the door.

 

"You two behave," you hear the Bed and Breakfast owner joke from behind the front counter, her eyes not even leaving the page of the magazine she's reading through, the reading glasses she’s wearing sitting at the end of her nose.

 

"We will, Ellen," Sam chuckles, shaking his head and giving you a look that says _ignore her_.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you will," she mumbles as the two of you exit the building, laughs on your lips at her words. 

 

As you walk to the diner, Sam's guides you through the shortcuts and points out spots that hold memories for him. He shows you the creek where he and his brother used to catch frogs barehanded then throw them back; the tree that he climbed and fell out of, resulting in his right arm being hindered by a sky blue cast for an entire summer; the graveyard where his parents were buried (that one was hard for you to hear, even harder for Sam to explain). He even shows you the place where he experienced his first kiss—he tells you that he was eight and the girl cried because she was _terrified_ she was going to catch “cooties.”

 

"Cute," you gush, chuckling and using your free hand to grip his arm that your own is hooked around. Your fingers grab at the rough material of his khaki jacket, looking for an anchor as you walk over an uneven path of pavement that makes your ankles go weak for a split second. You scold Sam playfully for laughing.

 

When you finally round the corner and see Dean's Diner, your face morphs into one of confusion. "Dean's? As in your brother Dean?" You question Sam.

 

"Yep," Sam grins, "Dean bought the space a few years ago and decided he _had_ to turn it into a diner. There used to be another diner just down the street, but the owners retired and moved to Louisiana. Dean missed having a place to get homemade apple pie so, he opened his own diner and learned how to make 'em."

 

"All because he missed the _pie_?" You laugh.

 

"You'll understand when you get to know him," Sam assures you with a laugh of his own. 

 

Sam holds the door open for you and gives you a polite smile, ushering you inside with a steady hand on the small of your back. You push away the fluttering frenzy it sends your heart into—a man had never held a door open for you before so _willingly_.

 

"I told you the other day, Sam; you're not welcome here!" A deep, rumbling voice shouts and your eyes go wide when you hear it. You give Sam a look of alarm and he just rolls his eyes and smiles, instantly making you relax. 

 

"Whatever you say, Dean!" Sam shoots back, guiding you into the busy diner further until you're face to face with a man nearly as tall as Sam and downright model-like. His eyes are apple green and freckles pepper his tanned, sculpted face. "This is Y/N," Sam informs him with a smile.

 

"Oh, yeah, the new girl in town," Dean smirks, "Sammy here wouldn't shut up about you last night, said he had a _date_."

 

Sam stiffens next you and fires back at Dean with an aspirated, "I _never_ said date, I just said I'm showing her around."

 

"Whatever, dude," Dean dismisses him with a shit-eating grin and an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "So, New Girl—"

 

"Y/N," Sam corrects.

 

"Booth or bar?" Dean asks you, completely ignoring Sam like it was a practiced skill. You just chuckle and chose the latter, chuckling as Dean tears you away from Sam's grip and ushers you to the nearly empty bar, guiding you up into a seat and handing you a menu. Sam drops himself down into the bar stool beside you, giving you an apologetic look before grabbing a menu for himself. 

 

"I like your brother, he's—"

 

"An asshole?" Sam laughs.

 

"Hey!" Dean shouts as he steps behind the bar with a notepad and a pen ready in his hands to take your orders. "Don't be bitter because a pretty lady likes _me_ better than she likes _you_ ," Dean teases Sam, flipping open the cover of the small notepad dramatically and clicking his tongue as he winks at you. You respond with a smile and roll your eyes at him before looking down at your menu. You can already tell the dynamic between Sam and Dean is completely joke-filled and _hilarious_.

 

"I know it's only, like, ten o'clock in the morning but I _really_ want a double cheeseburger," you say dramatically, watching Sam's face slit into a grin in response. "With cheese fries and a Dr. Pepper," you add, giving him an innocent smile like you didn't just ask for the greasiest meal in the place.

 

"Okay, this one's a keeper," Dean states as he scribbles down your order with a wide, toothy grin on his lips. Were their genes like made of gold and undeniable attractiveness or . . .

 

Sam orders the same, sans the cheese on the fries and a sweet tea instead of a soda. You chat with Sam about small stuff as you wait for your food to arrive, laughing and making conversation like you'd known each other for years insisted of a measly twenty-four hours. 


	2. I'm Gonna Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second installment of _New Beginnings In A Small Town_!
> 
> So, this chapter is filled with some fluff and some smutty goodness! Mainly because I wanted to give you guys one more good chapter before shit. gets. real.
> 
> Enjoy and if you celebrate Christmas, Merry Christmas! Here's your gift from me :)

It had been nearly three months since you left your old life behind and relocated to a small town, replacing city lights with quiet countryside and loud busy streets with peaceful tranquility. You'd seen Sam practically every day since your first day in town, accepting his offer to help you find a permanent residence three weeks into your stay at the B&B. He had been so excited that you’d decided to stay for a while, for good maybe if things went as planned. 

 

With Sam and Dean's help, you'd found a small two-bedroom-two-bath house that had been completely redone and looked like it was from a Thomas Kinkade Christmas card or something. It was painted pale yellow with white shutters, the porch wrapping completely around its perimeter and housing a refurbished porch swing—which you were undeniably excited about since you'd never had one before. The monthly rent was decent, low enough for you to live comfortably until you absolutely _needed_ to get a job. Your life savings wasn't much but would ensure you a good start until you got used to your new town, now home.

 

Sam helped you move in what little you had brought with you and went as far as to help you find cheap-but-decent furniture from a local consignment shop that specialized in fixing up old pieces. You'd sprung for a new mattress and box spring, not entirely trusting those at the thrift store or confinement shop. The thought of those old things just made you feel _itchy_. 

 

After two weeks of getting your little house in order, you finally felt you had an anchor. A place you could call home and not mind it. Sam made the transition easier, offering to cook dinner and bring over wine on a couple of occasions. You'd accepted each time, unable to deny his puppy dog eyes and sweet smile that dripped hope.

 

Sam had opened up to you in ways you didn't expect him to, telling you about his parents and how they ended up dying. You'd rubbed his shoulder as he explained, hands nimble but shaky as they gripped his wine glass while he explained the day like it was yesterday. Your heart swelled for him, your bottom lip becoming victim to your teeth as you held back the emotion his story brought about.

 

You had opened up, too. You told him about how life in the city was unorganized and crazy, and how it soon started to weigh heavily on you. You didn't give him all the details for personal reasons; there were certain aspects of your past that you didn't want Sam to know just yet. They were scary and made you feel mortified when you thought of how Sam might react when he did eventually find out your deepest, darkest secrets.

 

The first time you and Sam kiss—wine is the prime suspect. Red wine to be exact. A 1974 to be even _more_ exact. It made you feel fuzzy inside and etched a damn near permanent smile onto your face. Sam, too. He had his arm thrown around your shoulders as you both settled into the plushness of your couch cushions, his strength dragging you up against his chest as his nose nuzzled into your hair, causing you to giggle and push away to look up at him. That had been your mistake (or maybe not). Sam's face got serious and his eyes had settled on looking at your lips like he was trying to remember the shape of them. You'd bit at your bottom one in nervousness, your own eyes trained on his mouth as well.

 

"I'd really like to kiss you," Sam had whispered, his beautiful eyes meeting yours with a look of hopefulness swimming deep within them.

 

"I'd really like it if you did, Sam," you whispered back, placing a hand on his neck as further reassurance. His hands came up and caged your face, bringing your mouth up to meet his eagerly, the feelings that had been conjuring for weeks flowing between the kiss. It was hot, needy, and everything you had hoped it would be. The rest of that night, you and Sam held each other and made out for hours like hormonal teenagers.

 

And _God_ , the first time you both got a little handsy a few weeks later had been down right magical. Sam's hand had shoved itself into your leggings and absolutely rocked your world, slow swirls and firm pressure making you see stars and explosions behind your eyelids. You had impressed yourself with the fact that you were able to focus enough to decently stoke Sam off during his escapades on you. You can still hear the way he moaned your name that first time, and fuck, it drove you absolutely bonkers with arousal every time you thought about it. The thought of having full-on sex with him for the first time did the same exact thing.

 

You don't know how you got so lucky as to find Sam, but you were glad for it. He was sweet and compassionate, slow and caring, firm and solid. He was everything you had thought a man should be and everything you had ever dreamed of. You were glad that chance had brought you to his little town and guided you right into his arms.

 

You were broken from your mushy, lovey dovey thoughts when Sam comes banging through the creaky front screen door with a large blank canvas, an easel, and that wooden box of art supplies tucked under his strong arms. He's out of breath and sweat glistens on his forehead. 

 

"And just _what_ do you think you're doing?" You smirk at him, laying back on your love seat and propping your feet up on the couch arm opposite from the one your head is laying on.

 

"I had an idea and I needed to come over," he replies with a matching smirk, setting up his easel in the middle of the living room just under the brightest source of light located on the paneled ceiling. He sets his canvas in place on the easel and disappears into the kitchen only to return with two stools—one for his box to sit upon and one for himself.

 

"And what idea has my Sam come with, huh?" You wonder aloud, turning over onto your side and giving him a mischievous smile.

 

"I want to paint you," he says in the most serious voice you'd ever heard from him. His face is one of nervousness and fear all in the same, his eyes wide and his lips set in a straight line.

 

"Oh," you sit up quickly, "Like—Like a _portrait_?"

 

"Yes, exactly," Sam nods. "Can I paint a portrait of you?" 

 

You feel like you're about to explode. Sam's eyes are filled with so much emotion and question that it makes you want to cry fat tears of admiration. He's looking at you like his life depends on your answer and your cheeks redden embarrassingly. "I'd love that," you answer after a few minutes of contemplation.

 

"Alright, strip naked," Sam demands playfully with a grin.

 

"Whoa! _What_?" You exclaim with wide eyes and a slack jaw, standing to your feet.

 

"I want to paint you in the buff," Sam reiterates like he didn't just ask you to get butt ass naked in front of him. "It's not like I haven't seen practically everything already _anyway_."

 

You scoff and smile as you roll your eyes at him. "Yeah, but that was different. You weren't painting a portrait of my naked ass for the whole world to see," you point out.

 

"It'll be just for our eyes," Sam assures you, holding a strong hand up in the _scouts honor_ kind of way.

 

"What? Is porn not getting the job done, Winchester?" You snicker, making your way over to him and standing behind him to wrap your arms around his shoulders—which is easier since he's perched up on a stool rather than standing at his full height. "Or are just itchin' to get me out of my clothes for your own selfish, _perverse_ reasons?" You husks in his ear, giving the shell of it a feather light kiss that makes him shiver visibly.

 

Sam grabs one of your forearms and easily pulls you around so quick that you're falling into his lap sideways mere seconds later. You squeal in surprise and let out a series of giggle as he sets out to attack your neck with feverish, downright playful kisses, his scruff scratches at your delicate, lotion-scented skin in the most delicious way. You hum in approval when he scratches his way down the cleavage exposed by your v-neck t-shirt, his lips warm and chapped against the swells of the exposed portions of your breasts. "The painting can wait," he growls darkly into the hollow of your throat, his lips parting and his tongue sliding against your skin effortlessly smooth.

 

You moan your approval, carding your hands through his unbelievably soft hair, the thickness a welcomed feeling between your fingers. When he sucks a mark onto the juncture of your shoulder and neck, you gasp and whimper his name almost pathetically. You grind your ass down into his hardening cock, biting your bottom lip when you hear him groan and curse under his breath.

 

"I've wanted to fuck you since the first time we kissed, thought about it every day since," he practically slurs against your throat, drunk off lust and hunger for you as he claims your neck with his assaulting lips and teeth, maneuvering you so your legs are wrapped around his waist. The feeling of him all around you and the words his mouth is spilling has you writhing in his lap, gasping and moaning and whimpering your consent.

 

Sam hasn't even really touched you yet and he already has you begging for him. "God, I've thought about that night you made me come with just your hand," he breathes against your cheek en route to your ear. "Y'know, my hand used to be enough to keep me sated well enough, but then you came along and ruined it." You can tell he's smirking, you can practically hear it in his tone of voice—deep, sexy, and full of tease. "My hand can't even compare to yours. Yours is soft and feminine. You stroked me so good while I fucked you with my fingers—"

 

"Sam," you interrupt him with a whine, needing more. He ignores you though.

 

"You looked so fuckin' good coming apart for me, your sweet little pussy clenching around my fingers like it were my cock. I could live off that picture forever, baby girl." His hardening cock is pressing up into the inseam of your jeans through his own, numerous amounts of unwanted layers keeping you on edge. You rock your hips and whimper when he continues talking so dirty and vulgar. No man has ever had you so turned on with just _words_ before. "You sounded so sweet for me, like a song written especially for me, baby. I would fuck you forever if I could just listen to those sweet little sounds you make."

 

"Oh, _God_ ," you groan, because for some reason, the way Sam's concealed cock is rocking up against your clothed center in _just_ the right way combined with the way he's speaking as he mouths at your sensitive skin has you mere seconds away from an orgasm, almost embarrassingly so. And soon enough, milliseconds later it feels like, you're tumbling down like a sack of bricks thrown from a plane, the orgasm that runs through your quivering body muted by layers of clothing but magnificent nonetheless. You whimper and fist at the front of Sam's thin shirt as it rocks your body, his arms holding you close to him as you quake against him with the aftershocks of buzzing pleasure. You barely even notice that he's stopped talking entirely. You bury your face in his sweat-slick neck, breathing in and out heavily through parted lips, your eyes bleared from the thrill of it all as you gracelessly fall back to planet earth with a gasp. 

 

"Holy shit, did you just—“

 

"I think so," you breathe against his shoulder, chuckling nervously and burrowing yourself into his chest as your cheeks heat up furiously, no doubt probably as red as a cherry tomato.

 

"Well, now I know you're like _super_ into dirty talk," Sam husks with a chuckle accompanying his observation, running his big hands up and down your back as a way of soothing your trembling body. "I had no idea that I was _that_ good."

 

"Shut _up_ ," you huff, pulling away from your hiding spot to slap his chest playfully. 

 

"Don't be like that, baby—it was sexy," Sam smirks, gripping your hips to pull you closer to him—if that was even possible.

 

"It was _pathetic_ ," you correct him with chuckle, "I just come without even being _touched_. Proves how long it's been for me."

 

"Well," Sam shrugs, giving you a prize-winning grin as he says, "It's been a while for me, too. Too long, if I'm being honest. I'm just surprised _I_ wasn't the one that came untouched."

 

"I could always try if you want me to," you smirk, rocking your ass down against his rock hard dick playfully.

 

"No," Sam growls as he roughly grabs your hips to halt your movement, "I wanna come while I fuck you."

 

Those words send a new wave of burning hot arousal swooshing through your veins, making you hum in approval and pull Sam in for a desperate, hunger-filled kiss. His tongue is dominant when it slides through your lips, claiming your mouth with such ease that before long, you're putty in his strong, powerful hands. You pull away a few moments later, taking in large pulls of air as you climb off his lap and grab one of his hands, pulling him playfully off the stool. 

 

"You're a dirty girl," Sam smirks, pointing to the wet spot on the crotch of his jeans that's so blatantly, _obviously_ because of you. You giggle girlishly and pull him towards the larger couch of the living room, pushing him down not onto it and standing between his spread legs, his booted feet flat on the floor. He's just so large that he even makes a three cushioned couch look kind of small.

 

He looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, dark and swimming with pure want and lust for you. You smirk and pull your shirt off, revealing a lacy bra that has semi-transparent cups so Sam can almost see your rosy nipples through the thin material. Sam curses under his breath and fists at the cushions under him, licking his reddened lips when you pull at the button of your jeans, his eyes steady staring as you pull the zipper down. "I'm hard as a fuckin' rock right now," you hear him state as you turn your back to him and bend at the waist to push your jeans down to your ankles, your cotton-clad ass on full display in a pair of black panties that barely cover it.

 

"Good," you reply with a sexy smirk, turning to face him but not moving to straddle him like you know he was hoping you would. Instead, you sink down to your knees between the vee of his spread legs, your hands on his knees for support as you lower yourself to the ground. Your eyes find his as you undo his belt, the clank of metal and leather exciting you beyond belief. 

 

You chuckle as you yank his jeans and boxers down, Sam's eagerness evident in the way he lifts his hips and places his hands over yours to help pull them down while he fumbles to kick off his boots. You yank his bottoms completely off once they've bunched at his ankles, then pull his socks off as you laugh loudly at image of him keeping them on while he fucks you. Sam rolls his eyes and chuckles through a grin in response because he automatically knows what you're thinking about.

 

You settle down again and turn real serious when you sees Sam's cock, hard and leaky and mouth-watering before your eyes. "Fuck, I almost forgot how fucking _hung_ you are," you blush deep red, your kiss-swollen lips parting as you breath out in desire. 

 

"Now don't go givin' me a big head," Sam husks, running his hands up your arms and across your shoulders, causing goosebumps to pucker up on your heated skin in response to his touch.

 

"Can I at least _stroke_ your _ego_?" You smirk around your words, arching your back and pushing your chest up into the air, preening yourself for Sam as you run your hands up his thighs. He grins, humming in amusement before he leans forward to pull off his shirt, leaving him completely naked and you completely horny. You slowly rise up to your feet again, biting down on your bottom lip as you hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties, Sam's eyes watching intently as you push them down and let them fall to your ankles.

 

You move to climb into Sam's lap after kicking them away, reaching back to pop the fastens of your bra. Sam's index fingers slide under the straps on your shoulders, his fiery hazels meeting your gaze as he slides them down your arms. You sigh when the last article of clothing between you and Sam is gone, settling down in his lap so his hard cock is nestled between your slick nether lips. "Oh fuck," you moan, grabbing at his shoulders for leverage as you slide yourself up and down along his throbbing shaft.

 

"God, you're so fuckin' beautiful," Sam breathes, his strong hands wrapping around your hips to help you grind down against him, running his lips along the underside of your jaw. You moan for him, rocking against him and carding your fingers through his hair. "I wanna feel you, baby," he tells you.

 

You nod, sliding a hand between your bodies to grasp his cock and position yourself above it. You shake with excitement as you slowly lower yourself in his lap, gasping out when just the head of him slides inside you. "Oh," you whimper, pressing your hands into the couch on either side of Sam's head as you ease him all the way inside, stopping when he's buried deep.

 

"Fuck," Sam groans, running his hands up the length of your back. The overwhelming feeling of having him inside you for the first time and being so full has you hesitating to move just a bit, your lips parted as you pant and whimper in Sam's ear. "I gotcha, baby, it's okay—take your time," he whispers sweetly, hands gentle and calming.

 

"You're so big, Sam," you tell him in a breathy voice, gently rolling your hips but not pulling up in his lap just yet, the stretch of him inside you making your vision blur at the edges. Your hands move down to Sam's shoulders and travel south until they're splayed across his sculpted chest, giving you some leverage as you pull your hips up and slowly slide back down onto him, moaning at the feeling of him filling you to the brim once again. You find a steady rise and fall rhythm with Sam's help, the both of you releasing various sounds of pleasure. 

 

It's a religious experience really, having Sam in this way. Everything about it was damn near perfect. A man's never treated your body with such ease, with such power. You're a moaning mess above him, the emotion and feeling behind all of it making it hard to think about anything other than pleasure and Sam.

 

"Yeah, just like that," Sam moans when you pop your hips up in quick succession, his fingertips digging into your soft skin as he keeps the rhythm steady. You moan just as much, loosely wrapping your hands around his neck and letting your head fall back, the muscles in your thighs flexing as you use them to move yourself over Sam.

 

Sam's lips are quick to attack your now exposed throat, kissing and sucking at your flesh as he growls and groans. You gasp sharply when Sam wraps his strong around your waist and pulls you close to his chest, halting your motions completely. "Oh Sam!" You cry when he flattens his feet on the floor and uses it as leverage to start quickly pounding up into you from his sitting position.

 

It doesn't take long for your next orgasm to build up between your hips. The haphazard way your throbbing clit rubs against the base of Sam's cock every time he buries himself inside you has you seeing stars, along with the way his hands are grabbing harshly at your ass to hold you still as he delivers thrust after thrust.

 

You come moaning his name and every exploitive in the book, clinging to him as you tremble with pleasure. Sam's not too far behind, his thrusts growing sloppy and hasty as he gasps and pants your name. His hands splay out on your back, holding you close to him as you both slowly come down from your highs, kissing whatever you can reach with lazy lips and trailing fingertips over whatever exposed skin you can.

 

"Are you gonna paint me now or what?" You chuckle breathlessly.

 

"Not just yet," Sam whispers, quickly pushing you onto your back on the couch, his large body hovering over you as he smirks wolfishly.

 

The next few rounds of sex are fiery, fast, and mind-numbingly awesome. It's not until nearly midnight that Sam climbs off of you, retrieves a thin sheet from the bedroom, drapes it over your bare body and positions you in one of those _French girls_ kinda way. You smile lazily as he pulls on his boxers and sits in front of the blank canvas you can't see, his skillful hands going to work. "Smile just like that," he says, looking at you like you're a masterpiece of some kind.

 

You're not sure how long it takes Sam to finish the painting, but you don't mind. You're content with watching him. You watch the way his eyes move from his work to you for a split second, remembering the way you look to mimic it on his canvas. You admire the way his forehead creases with concentration, the way his tongue just barely pokes out from between his reddened lips as he swipes the paintbrush across the canvas with such grace and poise. You hum in appreciation at the way his arm and chest flex with the movement.

 

"I'm done," he suddenly says after a while.

 

"Really?" You light up, clapping your hands in excitement as you sit up, letting the sheet fall carelessly.

 

"You have to promise you won't hate me if it sucks," Sam smiles nervously.

 

"I could never hate you, Sam," you tell him, standing to your feet and traipsing over to him, giving him a slow kiss before finally looking at his latest work. "Sam," you gasp. 

 

It's beautiful. He's captured you in the most pristine way, the most perfect way. You admire the ways he's painted the sheet that had been covering you, the way it just hugs you and falls over the curves of your body like silk. You examine your painted face, the skill and brushstrokes of it leaving you speechless.

 

"Do you like it?" Sam asks in a small voice.

 

" _Like_ it?" You whisper with a chuckle, wrapping your arms around him as you say, "I _love_ it, Sam. It's perfect." You give him a sweet kiss before adding, " _You're_ perfect."

 

"Stop," Sam blushes, gnawing at his bottom lip as he looks down, trying to smother a grin.

 

"What? Don't you _know_ you're perfect, Sam?" You asks in a light tone, trailing your hands across his bare shoulders and down his chest. You nudge his forehead with the tip of your nose, smiling widely when he finally looks back up, his paint-stained hands coming up to grab your face so he can pull you in for a kiss.

 

You thank your lucky stars that you found Sam Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware: The next chapter . . . shit goes down. Hopefully I'll have it up before the new year lol


	3. Your Past Comes A'Hauntin'; Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I just uploaded the last chapter only two days ago, but I've already written out so many more chapters and I'm too damn excited to set up a weekly posting schedule. So, postings for this story will be sporadic and will be put up as I get every chapter proofread and edited. 
> 
> And again BEWARE for this chapter: Shit. Get. _Really_. Real.
> 
>  **Warning:** mentions of past abuse, a _very_ brief mention of past rape (I don't come out and say the actual word), mentions of past alcoholism and violence. Part Two of this chapter will have very present violence so prepare yourself for that. If any of the warnings I mentioned make you feel uncomfortable or are triggers for you, please do not read this chapter or just skip the part where you're explaining everything to Sam (you'll see where I mean). And if there are any other warnings that I didn't mention or ones that could be triggers that you find while reading this, please let me know so I can add them.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this, I fucked myself up writing it tbh.

Everything between you and Sam had been smooth sailing. It was almost too good to be true, if you were being honest. Five months in, you were falling head over heels for the tall man who enjoyed doing art in his free time and loved singing along to old classics, even though he couldn't carry a tune in bucket—even if the damn thing was glued to his hands. 

 

Everything seemed to be going great—at least—that was until you got an unexpected phone call from your attorney one morning.

 

"What do you _mean_ he hasn't signed the papers yet?" You hiss into the receiver, your hands trembling and your stomach feeling like it's going to cave in on itself at any second.

 

"He's refusing to sign them, Y/N," your lawyer informs you.

 

"This divorce was supposed to be finalized _months ago_! I'm not paying you half of my life savings to pussyfoot around this!" You sneer uncontrollably, anger and fear and trepidation all laced through your voice.

 

"We're doing everything we can here, Y/N. We've informed him multiple times that you've already signed the papers to make the divorce final, but he absolutely _refuses_ to sign them."

 

You can feel your body tremble with all sorts of emotions, your shaky hand coming up to cup your forehead as your breathing quickens. "Well, what the _hell_ am I supposed to do? Stay separated-slash- _almost_ -divorced to him for the rest of my _life_?!"

 

"We're going to meet with the judge tomorrow to reiterate that your husband—"

 

"Don't call him that!" You sob through your interruption, tears hot and heavy on your waterlines.

 

"I'm sorry, I meant _second party_. We'll tell him that the second party refuses to sign the papers you've already signed. We might be able to persuade the judge to override the separation and give you a concrete divorce, despite your hus—the lack of the second party's signature."

 

You wish that sentence had calmed your nerves but it did the exact opposite. "Is that even _possible_? An override?"

 

"If we can present enough evidence that the second party is an unfit spouse, then there's a very good chance there will be an override. I promise you, Y/N, I'm going to make sure you get this divorce."

 

"Thank you," you say weakly, feeling absolutely exhausted even though you'd only woken up a few hours ago. The phone call ends with a pseudo-happy goodbye, more so on your part than anyone else's.

 

**_Meanwhile, at Dean's Diner . . ._ **

 

A handsome stranger walks in. He has piercing blue eyes and blonde hair that's styled to perfection. He's got a charming, nice-guy smile stretched across his petal pink lips. He's wearing an expensive button up that's tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, accompanied with a pair of real leather loafers gracing his feet. He doesn't fit in with the people around here, he knows that—he's classier than these _hicks_ , he thinks.

 

He removes his name brand sunglasses and quickly rolls his eyes at the cliché ring of the bell above the door he's just walked through. He walks gracefully to the front counter where a guy with a name tag that reads _Dean_ is standing behind it counting the money in the cash register, spinning a toothpick between his lips using his tongue. 

 

"Welcome to Dean's; bar or booth?" Dean asks with a smile.

 

"Neither," the stranger answers, "I'm actually just looking for someone." The handsome stranger pulls a picture out of his wallet, showing Dean and watching the way Dean's eyes light up when he sees it.

 

"Yeah, that's Y/N, how do you know her?" Dean asked, too polite for this stranger's liking.

 

"My name's Chad," he tells Dean, "I'm her husband."

 

Dean can feel the _exact_ moment his jaw hit the floor.

 

 

▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️ ▪️

 

You're pacing through your living room, holding back tears and trying desperately to control yourself from bursting into an absolute mess, and falling to the floor in a miserable heap of yourself. You wish the floor would just open up and swallow you whole, take you away from this entire situation so you never have to deal with it again.

 

You nearly jump out of your skin when the screen door hits the wall after it's been slung open, your body quickly turning to face the front door with a bewildered expression. "Sam," you sigh, glad to see him. At least, that’s until you notice the absolute _deadly_ expression etched across his face, darkened with anger and betrayal. "What—What's wrong?" You quiver, not used to seeing him this way, the way his eyes bore into yours as his chest huffs while he drags in deep, threatening breaths through flared nostrils.

 

"When _exactly_ were you planning on telling me you're _married_?" He spits, looking at you like you're the dirt on the bottom of his boot. You want to shrink in on yourself, your heart stopping cold in your chest and a prickling feeling forming under your skin as your stomach falls out your ass.

 

"How do you know about—"

 

"Your _husband_ showed up the diner, asking Dean if he knew where you were," Sam sneers, his posture absolutely intimidating.

 

"Chad's _here_?!" You shriek, all the air leaving your lungs. Everything is happening so fast, too fast for you to fully comprehend.

 

"What? Did hubby forget to call so you had fair warning? Scared he's gonna find out you've been _fucking me_ on the side?" Sam asks, sarcasm so hatefully laced through every syllable that leaves his down-turned mouth.

 

"Sam," you nearly sob, "You don't understand—"

 

"I don't understand _what_? That you _lied_ to me? That you _used_ me?"

 

"No, Sam! I didn't lie to you! And I would never, _ever_ use you!" You try to say, earning you an eye roll and a not so friendly chuckle. "Please, Sam, just let me explain— _please_!"

 

"What's there to explain, Y/N? What the _fuck_ could you possibly say to make me believe that you're not just another _whore_ who cheated on her husband?"

 

Oh, _shit_. 

 

 _That_ hurt. You feel like you've been slapped. Actually, you'd rather had been slapped for real than to ever hear Sam say those words in the same sentence _ever_ again.

 

"Okay, I'm—I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt because you have every right to be upset with me—" ( _Is that voice really yours? That pathetic, tiny little voice you're hearing_?)

 

"You're _damn_ right I do!" Sam barks.

 

"But Sam, I _promise_ ; there’s a reason I'm here and not with my ex-husband," you tell him, "There is a perfectly good explanation if you'll just listen to what I have to say . . . _please_."

 

There's deafening silence between the two of you and a hard glare before Sam walks past you to sit on the couch—on the farthest side possible so there's ample space between the two of you once you've taken the other side. You take a few steady breaths to try and clear your foggy head, swiping under your eyes to brush away any tears that might have fallen.

 

"I married Chad right out of high school, we were young and stupidly in love—" you ignore Sam's scoff and continue on; "We were happy for the first few years, were almost the picture of a perfect couple. We lived a comfortable life since Chad's dad owned his own insurance company and signed Chad on after graduation, training him to be the up and coming CEO. Chad insisted I not work; he wanted me to make me a housewife and I was so young and stupid that, I thought that was what I wanted."

 

Sam's still not looking at you, his eyes steady staring at the hardwood flooring of the living room with his arms crossed over his chest.

 

"After Chad's dad lost his battle with cancer, Chad suddenly became the big dog at the office and became a millionaire almost overnight. Everything seemed to be going okay . . . until he fell in love with alcohol; he called an escape from work. It started out small, a few beers at dinner or a finger of whiskey before bed. I didn't think much of it until one night, he came home drunk and tried to—" You clear your throat, the next sentence already tasting like burning acid on your tongue. "He wanted to have sex, but I told him I was tired and just wanted to go to bed. He said it was my _job_ as his wife to _please him_ and even after I said no again, he didn't listen. He overpowered me, Sam. He took advantage of me, even after I begged and pleaded for him to stop." 

 

You're words are muddled by the tears that are streaking down your reddened cheeks, but you power on, not even having the courage to look at Sam—you feel his eyes on you now, though. "The next morning, he apologized and admitted that he had a problem. He started going to A.A. meetings and we even went to couple's therapy to try and solve the issues his addiction had caused between us. The damage was done, though. I had to put on a brave face and pretend I still loved him the way I had before he did what he did. After a few months of working on our marriage, he told me he wanted to have kids. We tried for months and nothing happened. We went to a doctor and they discovered that Chad couldn’t have kids due to some unknown cause that led to inadequate sperm. Everything went downhill again after that—"

 

"Y/N."

 

"Chad blamed _me_ for the fact that we couldn't conceive, even though all the doctors assured him I was fine and that it was because of his lack of sperm production. He blamed _me_ for something I couldn't even control. Then one night, we were fighting about it because I got sick and tired of him blaming me for everything. Things got loud and out of control and Chad slapped me, then slapped me again and again until he'd busted my bottom lip and left scratches on my cheeks from where his nails dug in."

 

You have to stop for a second because you feel like your chest is about to explode, your eyes bleared with thick tears. "I left him after that, hired a lawyer and filed for divorce—but according to the law of the state we were married in, we had to be separated for a year before we could actually pursue finalizing a divorce. I was so happy to finally be out from under him, but as fate would have it, I wasn't even _close_. For the first few months of the separation, Chad would come to the apartment I was staying in drunk of his ass and try to break down my door. He got arrested multiple times because of it, but was always released because I couldn't bring myself to go down to the police station to give them a statement. I didn't want to see him, Sam."

 

Sam slowly inches his way down the couch, still leaving a gap between you but moving closer so you know he's _truly_ listening. "He hired people to follow me, gave them thousands of dollars to spy on me and tell him everything I was doing. I finally got sick of it and left, packed up my car and just drove until I couldn't stand to drive anymore. That's why I'm here, Sam. I had to get away. I had to leave that _city_ and leave that _life_ , it was suffocating me and _killing_ me, Sam. The divorce was supposed to be finalized months ago, but Chad refuses to sign the papers even though I've already signed them." 

 

You're sobbing by this point, your throat raw and scratchy from trying to hold them back and failing miserably. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I promise you, Sam, that I wanted to but I was scared. I was scared you'd see how damaged I was and see all the baggage that I have to carry around. You were the first person here who made me feel like this is where I belong, and where I was meant to be. You—You changed my life, Sam. You treat me the way Chad never could. I admit, there was a part of me that was scared to love again, but with you, I don't feel smothered or feel like—like I have to fake the way I feel about you. I just . . . _do_."

 

Sam's arms are around you a few seconds later, his hand bringing your head towards his chest as you cry. "I'm sorry," you keep repeating over and over again.

 

"You've got _nothing_ to apologize for, baby. _I_ should be the one apologizing, I should have _never_ called you that name or made some slanderous comment like that. I should have let you explain before I said _anything_ ," he berates himself, running his hands up and down your back to soothe your sobs.

 

"You were—You were just—just upset," you cry into his chest. 

 

"That's no excuse, Y/N," he tells you, "I should know you well enough by now to know that you're not like that. You're amazing and you didn't deserve to be called a name like that." Sam's voice is shaky and you can tell he's really beating himself up, _really_ tearing himself a new asshole.

 

"At least, out—outside of the bedroom," you say, trying to lighten the mood—even though that feels impossible in every sense of the word.

 

"Not even then," Sam barely chuckles, "At least not _that_ name."

 

"Deal," you breathe against his shirt, damp and ruined from your river of mascara-filled tears. "I'm sorry, Sam," you say once again.

 

"Stop apologizing," he whispers, laying back the couch and bringing you down with him, your head nuzzle into the crook of his neck as you lay half on him and half on the couch.

 

After a few silence filled minutes, you finally ask in a small, tired voice, "What are we gonna do about Chad? I _know_ him, Sam, he won't go peacefully."

 

"We'll figure it out, I promise. I'll be right here with you the entire time, I won't let him hurt again, baby," Sam assures you, running his long fingers through your hair soothingly, kissing the top of your head sweetly. "And you're not damaged, you're _strong_ for having gone through all that. I could never deem you damaged goods or something _stupid_ like that, you're too special to me for that kinda title." 

 

His words make you smile. "Thank you, Sam. Thank you for being _you_ ," you whisper, the sudden need for a nap pulling on your eyelids despite the fact it's only one in the afternoon. "Lucky I found you," you murmur, your eyes fluttering shut as the nagging need for sleep wins the battle, allowing you to drift off into a dreamless state perched upon Sam's chest, the steady rise-and-falling lulling you to sleep easily.

 

A few hours later, you're wide awake and hungry as hell. "I would say we could go to Dean's but he probably hates me," you try to chuckle, but it sounds more forced than humorous.

 

"No, he doesn't hate you," Sam assures you, "He was just shocked, he'll understand once you're ready to tell him." You nod, not so convincingly which Sam notices right away. "How about we just stay in and I'll cook? We can go to the store together and pick out whatever meal you want."

 

"You're so good to me," you smile, placing your forehead against his and breathing the familiar calming scent that is so uniquely Sam. "Can we have homemade lasagna? You're like _the_ _best_ at making it."

 

Sam just smiles and nods, grabbing your face to pull you in for a sweet kiss, nothing frenzy or forceful about it—just a sweet, few-second-long peck that makes sparks fly inside you. "Go wash all that mascara off your face and we can go," Sam teases, poking you in the side with a dangerous set of fingertips.

 

"Fine," you sigh, climbing off him to disappear into the bathroom. After grimacing at your outer appearance and using a wet wash cloth to clean yourself up, you and Sam head out. Part of you is on high alert for Chad since he's somewhere in town, just _waiting_ to bump into you.

 

You and Sam are gathering supplies for the lasagna, a side salad, and a cake for dessert when your phone starts ringing. "It's my lawyer, I'm just gonna step outside," you tell Sam, giving him a quick kiss and nodding when he tells you to stay where he can see you from inside the store, begging that you be careful.

 

"Hey, Y/N," your attorney greets you with a strange tone. "We've just received word from Chad's lawyers that he somehow found out where you are and is on his way." The nervousness in your lawyer’s voice is obvious.

 

"Yeah, he's already made his presence known. He showed up flashing people a picture of me and asking where I was, asked the locals where he could find me," you inform him.

 

"Well, be careful, we don't know what he's capable of and—" 

 

You don't get to hear the tail end of that sentence, because your phone falls to ground as a result of an unknown force pushing you into the brick wall of the store's side, just out of view for Sam to see what had happened. You try to scream but a hand quickly covers your mouth and a pair of hateful blue eyes bore into yours.

 

Chad's sneering face is mere inches away from yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gawd. That cliffhanger though! There will be plenty of those in this story so . . . go ahead and get used to that :) *laughs evilly*
> 
> As mentioned before, there will be violence in the second part of this chapter. I should have it posted within the next few days.


	4. Your Past Comes A'Hauntin'; Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** Violence. As in, Sam and Dean kick some ass (as per usual) with a little added bonus from the reader.
> 
> This ends with some Sam lovin' because . . . _yes._
> 
> _** Previously on New Beginnings: ** _
> 
> _"Well, be careful, we don't know what he's capable of and—"_
> 
> _You don't get to hear the tail end of that sentence, because your phone falls to ground as a result of an unknown force pushing you into the brick wall of the store's side, just out of view for Sam to see what had happened. You try to scream but a hand quickly covers your mouth and a pair of hateful blue eyes bore into yours._
> 
> _Chad's sneering face is mere inches away from yours._

"There you are, you _bitch_ ," Chad spits, "I've been looking for you, honey. Did you _really_ think I wouldn't _find_ you?" You struggle in his grasp and feel tears prick your eyes due to the pain of having been forced against the harsh, jagged brick wall. You try to scream out but his hand is hindering any sound of alert to be heard, his way of _trying_ to remind you that you're his and only his. "We're going to go home, _end_ this separation, and you're going to be my wife again. That sounds good, doesn't it? It's all I've wanted, sweetie—our happy ending. I know you still love me, you have to."

 

His voice is anything but sweet; it's sour and spiteful, harsh and bitter. Downright _bat-shit crazy_.

 

You curse into his clammy palm, cursing his existence and telling him how much you hate him, the words muffled and useless. You continue to struggle in his vice-like hold, managing to wedge a knee between his and pull it up right into his groin hard enough to make him howl out in pain, but not fully release you. You go to scream out when his hand retracts from your face but a harsh slap across your cheek stops you before you can. It shocks you for a second before you _snap_ , clawing at whatever you can reach—which just so happens to be his face and neck. You claw and scratch in the hopes that he'll let you go. And honestly, he's taken enough of your strength and tears and you're _sick_ of it.

 

"Get the fuck _off_ me!" You scream, finally able to gather up your voice enough to actually do it. "Get your dirty fucking hands off me, you piece of _shit_!" You push at his shoulders and pound against his chest in an attempt to free yourself—it’s no use, Chad’s hold on you is nearly impossible to escape from, he knows all the ways to trap you and he uses it to his advantage. He’s smirking like he’s a lion who’s just captured its prey, completely unfazed by your struggling and shouting.

 

You gasp in shock when he's suddenly pulled away from you by two deadly pairs of hands. Sam and Dean came into your line of vision, their faces predatory and downright _scary_. It's then you realize that Dean's Diner is in perfect view of the store's side and you've never been more thankful in your life.

 

"You fucking _bastard_!" Sam grits out through his teeth, shoving your ex-husband against the wall the same way he had you but much harsher. He throws a heavy fist and it lands right against the cut of Chad's chin and just under his bottom lip, a sickening crack ringing out into the tense air around you. Chad somehow manages to pry himself out of Sam's grasp, only to be met by a sneering Dean Winchester, who grabs Chad by the neck with a powerful hand and shoves him back against the wall.

 

"You like beatin' up on women, huh?" You hear Dean ask, your eyes focusing on the scene in pure shock, unable to look away. "You touch her again and I'll shove my fist so far down your goddamn throat, you'll be shittin' out teeth for _weeks_. You understand me?" Dean's voice is fucking petrifying—but Chad remains unfazed, he only spits in Dean's face. Dean chuckles nonchalantly as he wipes the spit away with the sleeve of his work shirt. He tightens his hand around Chad's neck and pulls him away from the wall only to rock him back into it again, this time harder than the last. You can actually _hear_ the way Chad's skull meets the brick as he struggles for air, your face going a little green at the sound. 

 

"I asked you a question, _bitch_ ," Dean rumbles darkly. "Do you understand me?" The only response he gets is a chocked out gasp for air and a curt nod of Chad's head. "Good. Now get the fuck outta this town," Dean demands, releasing Chad with a careless hand and snorting in amusement when Chad falls to ground in a coughing mess.

 

"Come on, baby," Sam whispers, wrapping an arm around you waist to pull you away from the scene. 

 

"Okay, just gimme one second," you reply shakily, moving away from him to stand in front of Chad's slumped body just as he climbs to his knees. You take just a second to think before bringing your own knee up so it connects perfectly with his nose, a roar of agony ripping through his lips as he falls back to the ground on his back. He nurses his nose with both hands, blood rushing out from the point of impact and making everything red. "That's for slapping me," you tell him, giving him a firm and quick kick to the balls before adding, "And _that's_ for calling me a bitch." You wipe away the sweat that's collected on your forehead, turning back to Sam as you breathe in deeply through your nose to try and calm the adrenaline that's coursing thickly through your veins.

 

The sirens of a multiple police cars approaching fills your ears, but Sam pulls you into his chest to try and drown them out, keeping an eye on Chad to make sure he stays put—although, Sam's pretty sure the shot to the nads you just gave him would be enough to keep _any_ man down. He holds you close and tells you how strong you are, rubbing your back to calm your quivering figure. He still holds you close when the cops ask you what had happened, carding his fingers through your hair as you answers all their questions through the tears that threaten to fall but remain stubborn. They assure you and Sam that they'll make sure Chad won't ever be a problem again, giving Sam pats on the back and giving you a few friendly smiles.

 

Dean joins you two on the walk back to your house, his protective big brother mode still on high alert. "You okay?" He asks you, sliding an arm around your shoulders while you wrap one around Sam's waist.

 

"I will be," you nod, giving him a half smile as you wrap your free arm around his back. "Thanks to you guys."

 

"We'd do anything for ya, Not-So-New Girl," Dean smiles back, assisting Sam in guiding you back to the safe haven known as your home.

 

* * *

 

 About three weeks after the whole Chad fiasco, a confidential piece of mail is delivered to your door by your friendly mailman. You smile at him as he waves bye before you tear open the thick folder, your eyes scanning the document you find inside. **_DECREE OF DIVORCE_** is etched out in bold script across the top, making your shoulders fill less heavy and nearly weightless. 

 

You recall laughing like a maniac when your lawyer informed you that Chad would be spending the next eighteen months on strict house arrest, no means of a real social life in sight for him for a while. He assured you that Chad would no longer be an issue and he would take care of anything that was left to handle. He even wished you and Sam the best. 

 

"This Sam guy sounds like he's good for you, Y/N. You deserve to be happy after everything you've been through," he'd told you.

 

"Thanks, Chuck," you had smiled into the receiver. "For everything. I know I probably haven't been the easiest client, what with the psycho ex-husband and me hightailin' it outta town and all. Just . . . thanks."

 

"It was my pleasure."

 

You smile as you rethink on Chuck's kind words, feeling thankful you find such a trusted and all around good lawyer. You're not sure where you would have ended up without him.

 

You place the decree on your kitchen table, grabbing the two mugs of coffee you'd filled moments before the mailman showed up. You softly pad your way to the bedroom, your heart swelling when you see a magnificent and sleeping Sam Winchester sprawled out across your bed, nothing but a sheet covering his body, his built chest, arms, and torso on full display. It's enough to make you melt into the floor.

 

After placing the mugs on the bedside table, you knee your way up on the bed as you discard the robe you had on, leaving you in only a pair of cotton panties. You crawl towards Sam, leaning down to trail soft kisses from his left hip all the way up to the hallow of his throat. You smile against his skin when he huffs, acknowledging your presence but not opening his eyes, stubborn for more sleep.

 

"Leave me 'lone," he slurs in the cutest drowsy voice, sounding childish. You chuckle lightly and pull back enough to examine his messy hair, his scrunched up eyebrows and the adorable pout his lips are holding. "Five more hours," he says.

 

"Don't you mean _minutes_?" You laugh, running a hand up his chest.

 

"No," he states simply, trying to hold back a smile as he pops one eye open to finally look you. He sighs and closes his eye again, turning his head away from you and pressing the side of his face into the pillow as he grins. "If you're looking for morning sex, you've come to the wrong guy. I don't think I have another round in me just yet, especially after last night."

 

"Gah," you tease, "What are you? Like, eighty- _five_?"

 

"No, you were just _very_ insatiable last night," he chuckles, turning over on his stomach before adding, "Ya wore me out."

 

You smirk as you reply with, "You say that like it's a bad thing." You drape yourself over his back, kissing and teasing the skin covering his strong shoulder blade with your teeth. You can feel your nipples harden against his warm back, the feeling making your lower belly and groin area grow tingly and hot with arousal.

 

"Maybe if you work me up enough, I'll give you what you want," his husks, a filthy smirk evident in his tone of voice. 

 

"Oh now you're just being a tease, Sam," you breathe against his skin, "Giving me an ultimatum like that." He only chuckles and continues to purposefully _not_ give you want you so desperately want. "What if I told you that I _really_ want you, Sam, and that just looking at this big, _strong_ body makes me _quiver_ with need for you? Does _that_ do anything for you?"

 

"Hmmm," Sam hums deeply, "Maybe."

 

"Okay, well what if I said that just thinking about how _good_ you fucked me last night's making so wet, Sam?" You ask, trailing your lips down the knobs of his spine, your tongue licking over them like they're candy. You listen to his breathing go deep and rumble-like, a grunt of approval leaving his throat. "And what if I told you that the papers _finally_ finalizing the divorce came while you were asleep?" You smile into the dip of his back, working your way back up to his shoulders.

 

Sam moves then, turning back over so he's on his back, looking up you with hope-drenched eyes and a megawatt smile that shows off his perfect teeth. "Really?" 

 

"Yes," you whisper, biting down on your bottom lip as Sam rises to a sitting position. He grabs your face, pulling you in for a hungry kiss that's heady with love and desire. 

 

"Now that, baby, _that_ does something for me," Sam husks against your mouth before he presses himself into you, pushing you onto your back quickly and deliciously forceful. You gasp into his mouth in surprise, scrambling to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. "Mean's you're _all_ mine now."

 

"I was already all yours, Sam," you moan, rocking your hips up into his as the thin sheet falls away from his fully bare body. "Don't wanna be anyone else's," you promise him, trapping his sweet bottom lip between your teeth and tugging playfully.

 

"Good," Sam whispers, fully sealing his lips to yours, kissing the day lights out of you. He's sliding a hand down into your panties before you even have to beg for it, his deft, warm fingers sliding through your slick folds to test you. "Fuck, you're so wet," he observes, sliding the tip of his nose down the bridge of yours, the gesture sweet and heart-warming. He uses his free hand to hastily pull your sodden panties off of you, tossing them over his shoulder carelessly.

 

"Told you so," you say, a bit out of breath, humming and whimpering when Sam easily slides two long fingers inside you. He presses his free hand into the mattress beside your head so his upper body is propped up, his gaze sliding up and down your body as he watches the way you respond to him. It's his favorite thing to do—just watch. Your hair's a mess around your head and your eyes are closed, your lips parted as you moan for him. He examines the blush that starts in the apples of your cheeks and admires the ways it spills down onto your neck and chest, your skin tinged pink and burning hot as desire scorches the blood underneath it. 

 

"So warm," Sam whisper huskily, referring to place where his fingers are hidden between your thighs, curling and twisting inside you, "So wet and soft inside." He smiles down at you when your eyes sluggishly open just enough to look up at him, a chocked gasp pushing past your lips when he pushes a third finger in and presses the calloused pad of his thumb against your clit—it's swelling and going sensitive under his touch, the electric pleasure making you tremble like a leaf under him.

 

"Oh, ye—yes," you moan, your back bowing up and your head rolling back as you drown in ecstasy. "Oh my god, I'm gonna come," you say quickly, pitching your hips and thrusting yourself down on Sam's fast-moving fingers.

 

"You _better_ ," Sam tells you in a deep, sexy voice, a devilish smirk resting on his lips. When he pushes all three fingers in as deep as they'll go and rubs his thumb across your clit in a fast side-to-side motion, white bursts behind your eyelids, your hands scrambling to find something to grip as a wonderfully powerful orgasm racks your entire body. You can feel it tingle in your toes and in the tips of your fingers, the rippling effect of it crashing around inside you. "That's my girl, there you go," you hear Sam say, the words slightly muffled by the fact that you can practically _hear_ your blood pumping heavily through your body, your breathing unsteady and huffy as you moan and gasp, and hum and whimper.

 

You feel like you're on a different planet, so spaced out and dizzy from the pleasure that you don't notice Sam pull his fingers away and quickly position his hips between your shaky thighs. "Oh _fuck_ ," you rasp highly when he pushes himself all the way inside you with one solid push. "Holy—Oh my—Sam—Fuck!" You cry out, the feeling of Sam rocking in and out of you almost too much. You're not even sure if you've fully came down from your first orgasm yet, your body still buzzing and shaking. Your fingers are grasping at Sam's back, your fingernails scraping across his skin as you cry and babble incoherently.

 

"That's my girl, such a good girl," Sam moans in your ear, one hand grabbing your hip and the other fisting at the sheets underneath you. You sob in response, your moans chocked and broken as Sam carries you closer and closer to another release with every pounding thrust of his hips as he fucks you down into the mattress. You're a soaked mess between your thighs, evidence enough that Sam's fucking you good and hard, enough to make you downright _silly_ with pleasure.

 

"S-Sam," you whimper, leaning into his open mouth when he presses it against your sweat-slicked throat.

 

"I gotcha, baby," Sam breathes against your skin, "Want you to come again, wanna feel you come around my cock this time." 

 

"Please!" You cry, not even sure what you're begging for—you just _need_. You're _drunk_. Drunk off Sam's hips, off his hands, his cock and his fingers, off his words and his fucking _mouth_. No one's ever fucked you this good—so good that there's tears rolling down your flushed cheeks because you've lost _all_ sense of control by this point. You keep pleading for no reason, begging for whatever, for _everything_. Your eyes aren't focused on anything, they just roll back in a pure state of bliss. You're not even sure you would be able to tell someone what your name was if they asked you right now.

 

And when you do finally come, it's _earth-shattering_. Catastrophic in the best sense of the word. Sam covers you with his warmth, wrapping himself around you as your world explodes before your eyes and appears in flecks of white fuzz through your wet gaze. Every nerve-ending in your body is alive, electrified and powerful. You cling to Sam, your hips moving rapidly under him uncontrollably as you sob into his neck, unable to comprehend anything but _pleasure_. It feels like it takes a century and half for you to finally come down, still holding tight to Sam. He's shaking above you, his breathing heavy and hot against your ear. You feel even slicker between your thighs than before and you're able to comprehend just enough to determine that Sam had came with you.

 

It takes a while for you to return back to earth and remember that your name is Y/N. "Holy _shit_ ," you breathe, lulling your head towards Sam's lips as he plants multiple kisses across your reddened cheeks, swiping away the tears that stained them as he went. He rolls off you onto his side, dragging you up against his chest, one arm wrapped securely around your waist as the hand of the other one runs through your hair. He's whispering sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how good you did and praising you, telling you he loves you. You sigh into his chest as he runs a hand down your back, soothing your trembling body. 

 

It's without a doubt _the_ most intimate thing you've ever experienced. Any other guy would have pulled his dick out and rolled over to fall back asleep, but not Sam. Sam cradles your shattered body that's been pillaged by a mind blowing orgasm, one that still has your toes tingling and your ears ringing. His touch is gentle and soothing, his words sweet and sincere. You've never felt safer in your life.

 

"Thank you."

 

You honestly have no idea what you're thanking Sam for. You don't know if it's for the body-singeing release he just gave you, or for the fact that Sam is _Sam_ and he's _yours_.

 

You mentally decide on both.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Daydreams about Sam coming to my rescue and then givin' me the business*


	5. Sam's Past Demon; Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, Sam's past comes knocking this time. Looks like you guys can't catch a break *smiles innocently*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm double posting today because I love the drama. And just so everything is clear, this chapter takes place a few months after the last chapter. Sam has also moved in with you, I don't discuss it but just know that Sam's now living in your home. Now let the wild rumpus begin!

Dean asks you if you wouldn't mind helping him out the diner since he was down two waitresses. You agreed to it without hesitation—you still owed him for helping you out with Chad, you felt like you owed him the same. "The pay's shit, but the tips'll be good," he'd told you, smile full of hope and appreciation for your answer.

 

You were just finishing up the morning shift, cleaning tables and collecting your tips, surprised at how much some of the diner patrons left you. "You're just the sweetest thing," an adorably tiny elderly woman gushed as she slipped a ten dollar bill into your free hand that wasn't balancing a stack of dirtied plates. You had smiled and thanked her, wishing her a good rest of her day and making your way back into the kitchen to drop the dishes of with Henry, a grey-haired man who was the dishwasher.

 

"You have no idea how much I appreciate you picking up some of the slack 'round here," Dean smiles when you walk back to the front and stand beside him behind the counter.

 

"It's no problem, Dean, really," you assure him, returning the smile. "I can come back and help with the lunch rush later on, if you need me to."

 

"You have no idea how much that would save my ass," he chuckles, "Go home, rest a few hours and come back when you're ready."

 

"Will do, Captain!" You fake salute, turning on your heels and leaving the diner with a grin on your lips that practically splits your face in half.

 

Your walk home is calm, the spring air warm but not too hot, the breeze serene and fresh when you breathe it in. When you make to your home, you notice there's an unfamiliar and expensive-looking car in your drive way parked behind Sam's beat up old Chevy truck. You've never seen it before and you're so beyond confused.

 

"Sam! Whose car is that—"

 

You stop in dead your tracks when you reach the living room, seeing a gorgeous blonde woman sitting on your couch, Sam beside her with a sizable gap between them, his wide eyes focusing on you once you step fully into the living room.

 

"Hey, baby," he slightly hesitates, standing to his feet and walking over to you, dropping a kiss on your reddening cheek. "Uh, this is Ruby," he tells you, motioning towards her with his hand, your eyes following the action until you’re met with feminine, cat-like eyes and a smirk you automatically don't trust for anything.

 

 _Ruby. As in his ex-girlfriend Ruby?_ You think to yourself. "Uh, hi," you say awkwardly, _completely_ uncomfortable. You remember all the things Sam had told you about her. All the terrible, _no good_ things she did to him. "I'm gonna go change before I go back to the diner," you tell Sam, just wanting to get out the room as quick as you can.

 

"Wait—" Sam says as you retreat, following quickly behind you as you disappear into the bedroom. "Y/N, is something wrong?" He asked, shutting the door behind him and watching as you ruffle through your drawers for a change of clothes.

 

"No, Sam, everything's just _fine_ ," you say, sounding a bit more on edge and sarcastic than you had intended, amazed that he even asked you that with a straight face. "I don't have time to talk about this right now, Dean needs me back at the diner for the lunch rush." You push past him and toss your change of clothes on the bed, stripping out of you dirty ones quickly.

 

"Don't be like that, baby," Sam says, "I didn't even know she was coming, she just showed up—"

 

"And you didn't think to at least _call_ or shoot me text to warn me? Did you not want to ruin the surprise of me walking in and seeing her just _lounging_ on the couch like this is _her_ house or something?" You hiss in a hushed whisper, trying to keep your voice down.

 

"She's part of my past, Y/N, you don't need to feel threatened—"

 

"Threatened? You think I feel _threatened_ by _her_?" You interrupt him, eyes flaming as you stare him down. "And please, Sam, just go ahead and spare me the whole _she doesn't mean anything to me_ speech. I _really_ don't need to hear it," you scoff.

 

"So, you can explain _your_ past, but I can't explain _mine_? I listened to you tell me everything about Chad with open ears and the ability to be understanding." His voice is dangerously low, anger obvious in his tone.

 

"Yeah, _after_ you stormed my door and called me _whore_ ," you spit bitterly. Admittedly, it was a cheap shot, but you were _pissed_.

 

"And I apologized for that _multiple times_!" He shouts, obviously not caring if Ruby heard him or not. "And I can't even _believe_ you're throwin’ that up my face as some kind of fucking _bargaining chip_ right now!"

 

"Oh, kinda like you threw the whole Chad situation in to use as _leverage_?” You chuckle in an unamused kind of way, shaking your head. “As far as _I'm_ concerned; the difference between _my_ past and _yours_ , Sam, is that I didn't invite mine into our home with open arms and a cup of _coffee_!" You sneer, feeling like you're about to bust at the seams with anger. You finish getting dressed, pushing past Sam to leave the room and quickly exit the house. You hear Ruby call out "bye" in a way that almost makes you turn around and go back inside just to beat her fucking face in, but you don't. The _last_ thing you need is a fucked up hand.

 

Dean's face mirrors that of both confusion and horror when you burst through the diner door and immediately disappear into the back where the tiny employee lounge is. "Whoa, you're here a little early, aren't ya?" Dean asks once he makes it there as well.

 

"Yeah well, I needed a place to go so I could avoid your _idiot_ of a brother," you spit angrily, plopping down in a chair with a huff and crossing your arms over your chest as you pout childishly.

 

"Oh no," he sighs, "Wha'did Sammy do this time?" He questions you as he sits across from you at the small table, a look of sympathy and concern flashing across his face.

 

You ignore his question and follow it up with, "How much do you know about this _Ruby_ character?"

 

"Like, as in Sam's _ex_ Ruby?" He quirks a brow and you nod. "Well, I know she's a danger-loving _junkie_ who left Sam with nothing to his name but a broken heart and an empty bank account."

 

"Yeah? Well, guess what? The danger-loving _junkie_ is at _my_ house, sitting on _my_ couch and drinking _my_ coffee!" You tell him as you throw your hands up in the air, dramatic and crazy-like. "Sam's had _nothing_ but bad things to say about this woman, yet there she was! I can't believe this . . . " You shake your head, staring down at the table so hard you could probably burn a hole straight through it if you tried hard enough. "You'd be honest with me, right, Dean?" You ask him before he can reply.

 

"Depends on how hard it would come back to bite me in the ass," he chuckles, trying to lighten your anger-drenched mood.

 

"Should I be worried? About Ruby being back and around Sam?"

 

Dean sighs and hangs his head for a second, clicking his tongue and drumming his fingers on the table as he ponders the question. "Y/N, Ruby may the most conniving, manipulative, morally-corrupt _bitch_ to ever grace this planet, but Sam's smart. He adores you more than anything, he wouldn't do anything to put your relationship in jeopardy. It means too much to him," Dean tells you, his voice filled with so much sincerity.

 

"I know," you say in a small voice, "I just _don't_ trust her, Dean. Especially after all the things Sam's told me about her."

 

"Well good, don't even waste your time giving her the benefit of the doubt, sweetheart. She'll just show you why you shouldn't," Dean tells you, disgust in his voice. "And don't worry about Sammy, he loves you way too much to ever risk losing you because of _Ruby_."

 

"You're right," you nod, "He was able to live and let go with everything that happened with Chad, I should be able to do the same for him."

 

**_Meanwhile back at your house . . . ._ **

 

"I've really missed you, Sam," Ruby says, scooting closer to Sam after he finally sits back down on the couch with a solemn look on his face.

 

"Ruby, now is _really_ not the time for you to try and worm your way back in," he deadpans, rolling his eyes and resting his head in his hands. "I think you should go."

 

"Oh come on, Sam, don't be like that," Ruby smirks, resting a hand on his shoulder and leaning into him. "You were so into it the last time I was here."

 

"I didn't have Y/N then, Ruby," Sam informs her, rolling his shoulder out of her grip and standing to his feet. "Really, you need to leave. Y/N doesn't want you here and . . . neither do I."

 

"You know that's not true. You want me here and you _know_ it," she whispers suggestively, standing up in front of him with mere inches between their bodies. "You know it in your heart that she could never love you the way I do."

 

"You're _so_ right, Ruby," Sam scoffs sarcastically. He smirks darkly as he sneers, "She does it better than you _ever_ could."

 

"You're only kidding yourself, Sam," she taunts tersely with a humorous laugh, "You'll _always_ want me, and you can try all you want to, but you can't resist me, Sam. You're _weak_ and you know it, so just give in like you always do so we can both get what we want."

 

"You're a real piece of work, Ruby," Sam tells her, shaking his head and chuckling in disbelief. How could he have _ever_ loved this woman? "Just leave before I _make_ you leave."

 

"Oh Sammy, now you know I like it when you get all _forceful_ ," she purrs, sliding up against him. Sam's tries to push her away but Ruby roughly fists her hands in his shirt and pulls him down to roughly plant her lips right onto his.

 

And, _of course_ —as fate'll have it—that's the _exact_ moment you walk through the front door, fully intending to hear Sam out and to apologize for your outburst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Damn._
> 
> Also, I pictured Ruby 1.0 for this because I think she's more sinister-looking tbh.


	6. Sam's Past Demon; Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You end up having to slap a bitch while Dean ends up being the saving grace of your relationship with Sam. Make-up sex to finish this chapter off because hello, you and Sam need it.
> 
>  
> 
> _** Previously on New Beginnings: ** _
> 
> _"You're a real piece of work, Ruby," Sam tells her, shaking his head and chuckling in disbelief. How could he have ever loved this woman? "Just leave before I make you leave."_
> 
> _"Oh Sammy, now you know I like it when you get all forceful," she purrs, sliding up against him. Sam's tries to push her away but Ruby roughly fists her hands in his shirt and pulls him down to roughly plant her lips right onto his._
> 
> _And, of course—as fate'll have it—that's the exact moment you walk through the front door, fully intending to hear Sam out and to apologize for your outburst._

You gasp just as Sam pushes her away forcefully and notices you in the doorway with a look of pure betrayal flashing across your features. "Oh god, Y/N, _no_ , this—this isn't what it looks like!” He scrambles on his feet to follow you as you swiftly turn on your heels and slam through the front door into the breeze and sunshine.

 

You spin around like a tornado when he grabs your upper arm to stop you from walking away. "Don't you _dare_ touch me," you hiss dangerously, ripping your arm out of his grip roughly.

 

"Baby, _please_ , you gotta believe me! _She_ kissed _me_ —I told her to leave but she didn't listen!" He talks quickly, damn near quivering as he examines the venom in your eyes and the angry redness your cheeks have collected. "I wouldn't do that to you—"

 

"I gave you _everything_!" You cry, tears making themselves known as they fall down your face. "My trust, my heart, my _life_! I gave myself to you, Sam! I gave love another chance after the world gave me _every_ reason not to, gave you a chance even when my head was _screaming at me_ to run the other way. _God!_ I should have _known_ it was a waste of my fucking time!" You pound against his chest with clenched fists as he tries to hold you, trying to pry yourself out of his grasp.

 

"Y/N, please—"

 

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Y/N," you hear Ruby say all of a sudden, standing to your side with her arms crossed over her chest and mock-sadness etched across her evil features, a smirk soon stretching her lips.

 

You go deathly still in Sam's arms, turning your head to regard her for a few seconds before you rip yourself out of Sam's hold and backhand her straight across the face as hard as you possibly could. The blow of it sends her to the ground right on her ass, her mouth immediately spilling expletives as she curses your existence and calls you every name in the book. Sam's still trying to talk to you but you block him out, turning and running as fast as you can away from the scene of the incident.

 

Sam calls your name over and over again as he watches you run, knowing that there's no point in trying to follow you. You won't listen even if he tried to. "You need to leave now!" He roars with heart-stopping ferocity, quickly turning towards a disheveled Ruby who's scrambling to her feet with her assaulted cheek cupped by one of her hands. "Take your psychotic ass to your car and just get _the fuck_ out of here! You are _done_ ruining my life, Ruby. You are _dead to me_." He doesn't wait for a reply, just rushes back into the house and locks the door behind him. He listens to the squeal of Ruby's tires, a short-lived rush of relief flooding his body. 

 

Sam scrambles to find his phone, dialing the number to Dean's diner once he finds it. "Dean, I really fucked up this time," he tells his bother once he answers, his voice shaking as fat, hot tears fill his eyes. "I—I don't know—Dean, I don't know how to fix this."

 

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ ," Dean replies quickly, "What's goin’ on?"

 

"I just—Ruby, she—Y/N saw me and Ruby—"

 

"Okay, just calm down, Sammy," Dean stops Sam's incoherent babbling. "I'm leaving the diner and coming over, just . . . take some deep breaths until I get there."

 

"O-Okay," Sam stutters as he nods, even though Dean can't see it. He hangs up the phone and takes a sit on the couch, his head in his hands as he takes a long series of deep breaths like Dean told him to. He's shaking, his emotions running high. The only thing that keeps replaying in his head is the look on your face after you walked in and saw Ruby kissing him. It was so full of utter betrayal and all hope lost. 

 

That's the way Dean finds him, head bowed and shoulders trembling. "I told her to leave, Dean. I told Ruby to leave after Y/N found out she was here. She just—She kept calling me weak and told me to just cave like I always do. I didn't _want_ to kiss her, Dean—"

 

"Whoa, you _kissed_ her?" Dean asked in a controlled voice so Sam didn't feel like his older brother was judging him too harshly.

 

"Well, she kissed me. I pushed her away not even a second later but Y/N walked in just in time to see her kissing me," Sam corrects, shaking his head as he tries to calm down. "Then Y/N slapped Ruby and ran away."

 

"Whoa! She _slapped_ _Ruby_?" Dean asks, a torch of pride for you swelling up in his chest. "Damn, wish I coulda been here for _that_ ," he murmurs to himself.

 

"What am I gonna do, Dean? I don't even know where she is!" Sam cries, choosing to completely ignore Dean's comment and regret not following you. "How am I gonna fix this? She looked so _hurt_ , Dean. I promised her I would _never_ make her feel the way Chad—"

 

"Hey now, don't go comparin' yourself to that sack'a shit, Sam," Dean stops him with a stern voice. "You are _nothin’_ like Chad. You're a better man than him, and Y/N knows that."

 

"She said me giving me a chance was a waste of time, Dean," Sam's voice grew small and he sounded defeated.

 

"Was this before or _after_ the kiss with Ruby?" Dean asks.

 

"Does that really _matter_?!" Sam shouts incredulously.

 

"Yeah, it does, man," Dean replies, "If she said it _after_ the kiss, then it came from a place of anger and hurt, Sam. She didn't mean it. She's been through an abusive relationship in the past with a punk who shattered her, Sammy. Saying things like that is her defense mechanism, a way of hurting you without even touchin’ you."

 

"Well, it _worked_ ," Sam scoffs, fighting off a new batch of tears.

 

"Can you really blame her? I'm pretty sure if walked into somethin' like she did, I'd be mean before I was understanding," Dean states, trying to give some perspective.

 

"I gotta find her," Sam says, swiping at his damp cheeks with the back of his hands and standing to his feet.

 

"No, _I'll_ find her. If you go lookin' for her right now, she's gonna to be hostile towards you and that'll only cause a bigger rift between the two of you. This way, when I find her, I can talk her down, let her blow off some steam so she's not so strung tight when you talk to her," Dean tells Sam, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him back down on the couch as he adds, "I'll text you when I find her, fill you in on how she's doing. Just . . . stay here."

 

Sam nods and bites his bottom lip, feeling pathetic for crying so much. "Okay," he whispers, watching Dean give him a sympathetic smile before he turns to leave.

 

It doesn't take Dean nearly as long to find you as he thought it would. He finds you sitting on a concrete bench across from the flower mural Sam still hadn't finished yet; you're legs are tucked up against your chest, your head down in your knees as sobs rack your body. Dean sinks to his knees in front of you, saying "sweetheart?" in a gentle voice. You pull your head away from the hiding spot between your knees, looking at his face with wet, bloodshot eyes.

 

"It hurts, Dean," you cry, not fighting him when he sits beside you and pulls you into his chest, your trembling body cradled in his strong arms.

 

"I know, sweetheart, I know," He whispers against the top of your head, rocking you back and forth gently, running his hands and down your back to soothe your sobs. "Hurts like hell, I know. I gotcha though, gonna be okay."

 

"How could—How could he—With Ru—Ruby," you trip over your words, your words muddled by tears and snot. 

 

Dean sighs, pulling back to cradle your face in his hands, bringing your head up so your soaked eyes are locked with us. "Listen to me; Sam _loves_ you, Y/N. He would _never_ do anything to hurt you or make you feel betrayed. I told you Ruby was a conniving bitch, she does this every time she comes around. She sets out to tear Sam's life apart and ruin him the same way she always does. She's gets some kind of sick satisfaction from making Sam's life a livin' hell," Dean tells you, serious and steady. "You gotta believe me when I say that Sam didn't want to kiss Ruby. He told her to leave after you came back to the diner, but Ruby didn't listen because she's a cold-hearted skank who loves destroyin' every single damn thing in her path."

 

You close your eyes, breathing out deeply and nodding into Dean's hands. "Sam's at home thinkin' he's just like Chad, thinks he ruined you the way Chad did. He's beatin' himself up real bad, Y/N. You have to know that Sammy would give you the shirt off his back and the world wrapped up in gold if he could. That boy's _never_ loved anyone the way he loves you. I've never seen him light up the way he does when you're around, or smile so hard his face damn near splits in half."

 

You jump with a sob, letting Dean's words soak into your mind and heart. Sam's your everything. He's the beginning, middle, and end you had prayed for after you left your old life behind and searched desperately for a new place to call home. You found a stillness and a love in Sam you thought only existed in fairy tales. It's then you realize that Sam's more like you than you ever cared to think about before. He, too, had a past relationship that damaged him in ways no one could understand. The toxic people of your pasts were poisoning your relationship with Sam, and you decided then and there that never again. Never again would you let Chad or Ruby's venom ruin the solidarity between you and Sam. Or anyone's for that matter. You needed to fix each other, make one another feel worthy of the love from another.

 

"I shouldn't have left," you whisper through your tears, "I should have stayed and listened to him."

 

"Hey, you were upset," Dean shrugs and smiles fondly, releasing your face and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "At least you got to slap that bitch Ruby."

 

You laugh at that, shaking your head and wiping away the tears from your face. "That _did_ feel good," you admit, chuckling as you look down at the ground. "And it wasn't just any slap; I straight up _bitchslapped_ her." 

 

You and Dean share a laugh at that.

 

Deans stays silent for a few minutes after that before saying, "You and Sammy are gonna be just fine, Y/N, I'm sure of it." You smile in reply, resting your head on his shoulder as you nod and let a few more stray tears fall. You sit there for another thirty minutes, just letting the anger and betrayal roll off your shoulders before you even attempt to make your way home.

 

* * *

 

 

"Sam?" You call out once you walk through the front door, feeling the floor of your stomach fall through when he appears in the open doorway of bedroom, the skin around his eyes red and puffy with the evidence of his crying.

 

"I'm sorry," he rasps immediately, his chin wobbling with emotion and his eyes watching you tenderly as you walk towards him in a calm, slow manner.

 

"I know, baby," you whisper, moving on your feet until you're right in front of him. You bring a hand up to cup one of his flushed cheeks, biting at your bottom lip as your own tears threaten to fall. 

 

"I shouldn't have let her come into our home, I should—I should have turned her away when she showed up," he rambles, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen, I never meant to hurt you like this. You just mean so much to me, baby, and—and I never want to feel like I've ruined us or that I've lost you ever again. My world would stop turning if you weren't in it, couldn't go on without you."

 

"Sam," you stop him, "Don't ever, for even _a second_ , think you've ruined us, or even me for that matter. You could never lose me, honey, because I love you _too damn much_ to _ever_ let you go. And don't ever liken yourself to Chad again; you're a better man than he could ever dream of being."

 

"But I made you a promise that I wouldn't make you feel the same—"

 

"And you've kept that promise, Sam. I could _never_ feel with you the way I felt with Chad, it's just not possible," you say through tears and a shaky smile. "You've given me a sense of safety, a sense of home. You're my home, Sam, and I couldn't ever imagine being anywhere else but with you."

 

"I'm just sorry," he chokes up, placing his hand over top yours resting on his cheek and nuzzling into your gentle touch. "I'm gonna make it up to you, I swear. We're not leaving this house until you know just how much I love you and how empty my life would be without you."

 

"That's fine with me," you chuckle as you tear up even more, running your free hand through his hair, stopping at the nape of his neck and loosely fisting the soft hair there. "Now kiss me, my beautiful man," you whisper, stepping closer to him until there's no gap between your bodies.

 

Sam kisses you like his life depends on it, his lips urgent and eager to show you that your lips are the only ones he'll ever need. You give him the same, sliding your tongue past his lips to lick away Ruby and replace her with you instead, because that's the way it should _always_ be. "Need you," Sam husks against your swelling lips, his voice still a tiny bit shaky and his hands strong where they hold you against him by the small of your back.

 

"You have me," you reply in a low voice, running your nose along his and letting your eyes flutter shut as the calming, salty scent of his skin penetrates your sense of smell. You run both hands through his hair, feeling him nod then place his forehead against yours, gripping you tighter as he backs you up until your ass hits the edge of the kitchen table. "I didn't mean it when I said giving you a chance was a waste of time," you tell him as he lifts you up onto the polished wood surface, his hips between your thighs.

 

"I know you didn't," he assures you, wrapping his big hands around your neck to pull you into another kiss, his fingers carding through your tousled hair. Your hand splays itself out over his ribs over the material of his t-shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss turns into one full of nothing but hot, desperate, love-soaked need. "God, don't know how I would've lived if I couldn't kiss your lips," he breathes against your mouth, taking your swelling bottom lip between his to suck on it. You whimper and let your hands move up his back until you can curl them around his shoulders, dragging your chest up against his as you hike a leg high up on his side to pull him as close to you as physically possible.

 

The air around you grows hot and humid, the desperate need to take off your clothes nearly tangible. You fists the back of Sam's shirt, tearing your lips away from his as you hastily remove the unwanted barrier between the two of you. You hum as you lean into him, mouthing at one of his nipples, enjoying the way Sam gasps above you, a hand shoved in your hair as you twirl your tongue around the hardened nub of nerves. "Fuck," he hisses as you suck at it until the skin around it purples and reddens, quickly moving over to the neglected one once you're satisfied with your handiwork. 

 

Sam uses his free hand to clumsily unbutton your jeans and yank the zipper down, adding his other hand to the mix in order to efficiently pull the denim down your legs, accompanied by your dampened panties. He wraps a loose hand around your throat, pulling you away from where you're stilling assaulting his chest to push you onto your back on the table. You pull your knees up until your feet are flat on the table, your legs falling wide open as Sam sinks to his knees before you. You gasp as he yanks you closer to edge and his face, pulling your knees towards your chest to open yourself up even wider for him. You thank the heavens above that your kitchen table is sturdy enough to withstand such events as the ones you and Sam are partaking in.

 

A hum vibrates in your throat as Sam traces sloppy patterns along the backs of your thighs with the tip of his tongue, completely avoiding where you want him the most. He doesn't stop until your skin is slick with his spit and you're begging for his mouth. "God, I need it," you whimper, bucking your hips to try and feel it against you. Sam moans in approval, leaning in completely to slide his tongue through your soaked folds, the muscle thick and hot against your tender skin. You cry out at the feeling of it, never growing tired of the way that first lick feels . . . and the second . . . and the third . . . and the . . . "Oh fuck, Sam!" You rasps when he presses his slick tongue flat against your throbbing clit and laps at it with firm strokes.

 

You feel so swollen and puffy between your thighs, crying out pathetically as Sam ravages you like a man starved. You manage to pull your shirt off through your hazy state of mind, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms and yanking the damn thing down until it's left abandoned around your middle, your breasts now exposed and nipples hardening almost immediately.

 

"I could stay buried between your thighs forever," Sam mumbles against your swollen flesh, the vibration of his deep voice making you jump and hum in approval. He moans back, the vibrations stronger than the first ones and making you see flecks of white in your vision.

 

Once Sam presses the heel of one hand down against your lower belly just above your mound, you're a goner; the pressure of his heavy hand pressing into you and the suction of his lips around your clit is far too much and way too powerful _not_ to make you come. You're grasping at the table's edge with one hand, the other fisted in Sam's hair as your back arches off the table like a bow after it's been strung tight. Your release is like the arrow, shooting through you so good that you're shaking and damn near convulsing with electrified pleasure.

 

You're still coming down when you sit up as Sam climbs back to his feet. You don't even care that your hands are shaking so bad that you fumble embarrassingly with popping the button fasten on Sam's jeans, just so ready for him that you feel like you'll keel over if you don't feel his rock-hard cock inside you in the next five seconds. You jump off the table and turn yourself around as he finishes baring his lower half, bending over the table with your hands flat on its surface, your ass in the air as you present yourself to Sam. He always feels the thickest and longest and most fucking _phenomenal_ in this position.

 

"Yes," He moans deeply into your ear as he presses himself up against your back, a hand shoved between your bodies so he can grasp himself, pushing into you slowly inch by irresistible inch. He stills his hips once he's sheathed deeply inside you, placing his hands over yours on the table to interlace your fingers, his body completely wrapped around you. 

 

You sigh his name as he pulls out and shoves himself back inside you in a sluggish, tantalizing way, his teeth nipping at the skin of your shoulder. He stretches you in just the right way, filling you up so good that you whimper out praises at the feeling if it. "So _good_ , Sam," you gasp, pushing back to chase his hips when he pulls them back again, the skin of your sweat-slick back sliding against his chest.

 

"So good," he echoes, releasing a hand from yours to wrap it around the front of your throat, pulling your head back as he traces the shell of your ear with his tongue. He gives you a harder thrust, gradually upping the speed of his hips while he moans into your ear. He slides his free hand down the front of your body, toying and pinching at your budding nipples for a few minutes before moving down to press two roughly calloused fingertips against your clit.

 

The only sounds filling the room are the loud, steady slaps of his powerful hips meeting your ass and both of your groans, moans, and gasps. "Mmm _fuck_!" You cry out, "Please don't stop, Sam! Please, please, please . . ." You reach back with one hand, pulling at his hair with your fist as he sucks a dark red mark onto the side of your neck, marking you as his.

 

"H'oh my god", he groans deeply into your skin, his lips parting and expelling heavy, punched out puffs of air as he continues to pound you into the table. You can feel the familiar, continuous flutter of your weeping pussy around his cock, signaling that you're seconds from falling over the metaphoric edge you're hanging onto by just your friggin' fingernails. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby," Sam whimpers into your ear, "Gonna fill you up."

 

"Yes! I want it, Sam," you moan, " _Need_ it, baby."

 

A few seconds later, Sam grows rigid against you with a deep growl, his hips faltering just the right way, forcing himself inside you roughly as he comes, the sweet pleasure-pain it causes pushing you over the edge just a split second after. You both cry out together as you ride out your highs against each other, praising one another and spilling words of uncontrolled emotion from your open, panting mouths. It's erotic, sticky, and everything you could have asked for.

 

Sam clings to you as he slowly drifts down from his peak, breathing heavily against the nape of your sweaty neck with his arms wrapped around your trembling lower body. You whimper as he lazily licks at the slick saltiness of your skin, your hips jerking back against his as the aftershocks of your orgasm flash through you like lightning. Sam pulls your head to the side with a gentle grasp of your flushed cheek, pressing his mouth into yours for a sloppy, tongue-filled kiss. 

 

"You were perfect," he whispers after he pulls his lips away, resting his damp forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose alongside yours.

 

"You weren't so bad yourself," you chuckle breathlessly, pushing back and up against him so he gets the hint to stand up, his softened cock slipping out of you with a slick gush following it out. You turn in his arms, kissing along his collarbones and dipping your tongue into the hollow his throat. You gasp as he shoves a hand in between your sodden thighs, collecting the slickness that's leaking out of your fucked out pussy on his fingers. You open your mouth as he runs them along your swollen bottom lip, sucking the wetness from his digits and humming appreciatively at the taste of your intermingled flavors. He smirks and pulls them out once they're clean, pulling you in for more filthy, hunger-driven kisses, groaning as he tastes the both of you on your tongue.

 

You let out a surprised squeak as he swiftly picks you up bridal style, walking you into the bedroom and tossing you onto the bed. "Ready for round two already?" You tease, watching as he crawls over your body with a grin on his lips.

 

"I said I was going to make it up to you," he husks, sounding utterly wrecked and sexy as hell, his lengthy hair all askew and adorably mussed.

 

"Well, let's hope you don't kill me in the process," you chuckle, "I'm already so sensitive."

 

" _Good_ ," he smirks wolfishly.

 

You end up going three more rounds that night before you both collapse onto the mattress beside each other in exhaustion, fucked out and blissed out with big, stupid, sleepy smiles on your faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for some more drama in the next chapter as well . . . since it's what I do best. 
> 
> What? I can't make this shit easy for you guys. That would be _boring._ Luckily though, the drama conjuring isn't detrimental to your relationship with Sam this time, but I'm not giving away any clues so y'all will just have to wait and see :)


	7. There's Decisions To Be Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few (unexpected) surprises later . . .

The night of your ‘one year of dating celebration’ consisting of wine and dinner and more mind-blowing sex; you and Sam are cuddled up in bed, wrapped up in nothing but a sheet and each other. "What if we mess it up?" You whisper the question, your head laid against his chest, the tip of your index finger running through the soft hair between his pectoral muscles.

 

"Mess what up?" Sam asks in a soft, raspy voice—genuinely confused by the sudden, out-of-the-blue question—his fingertips running up and down your bare back that's still saturated by cooling sweat.

 

"What we have, our relationship," you answer, pulling your head up to look into his eyes. "What if marriage is too heavy? What if it changes us? I don't want to be a Debby Downer about it, but I just want _this_ marriage to work, Sam."

 

"It will," he smiles, understanding the doubts he can practically hear running around in your head, grabbing your left hand in his and placing a kiss on the knuckle just above the place where your new diamond engagement ring sits. "And you wanna know _why_ I'm so sure?" He questions you, a loving glint in his beautiful hazel eyes.

 

"Why?" You ask back, running your fingertips along his well-defined jawline.

 

"Because I love you, Y/N," he answers, "There's nobody else in this world I'd rather spend the rest of my life with. You're the only person that makes my heart feel like it's about to beat right outta my chest every time I see that beautiful smile of yours, or hear that contagious laugh I love so much."

 

"Go on," you say, a huge grin stretching your puffy, beautifully kissed-out lips.

 

"I love waking up beside you, seeing that crazy head of hair and those gorgeous Y/E/C eyes filled with sleep from the night before. You make my world turn, Y/N; you keep me on my toes and you know how to reel me in like fish on a hook. You get on my damn nerves, drive me crazy, and make fall in love with you over and over again all at the same time. I wanna show you what a marriage is supposed to be like. I wanna give you the world and treat you the way you should always be treated; even when you're in one of your moods and just need a hug or a kiss to make it okay again. I wanna make your bad days good, and your good days even better. I wanna be your husband, baby. I wanna give you everything this life has to offer."

 

"Okay," you whisper with a nod, choking back tears and smiling like a fool. Sam's smile mirrors yours as he brings you in for a sweet kiss, wrapping his arms around you securely, making you feel safe and blissfully adored, loved, and cherished.

 

* * *

 

  ** _Five Weeks Later......_**

 

You groan dramatically after spewing the contents of your stomach into the toilet you're currently slumped over, a pout on your lips after you swipe at your mouth with the back of your hand as you flush. Sam's gone to the Bed & Breakfast to help Ellen do some long overdue renovations—something that'll take all day, no doubt.

 

"Goddammit," you curse when your phone starts ringing . . . _loudly_. You blindly reach for it where it's laying on the counter next to the toilet, swiping the answer button without even looking at the caller-ID. "Hello?" You answer, your voice raspy and sounding not so cheery.

 

"Well _hello_ to you too, sunshine!" You hear a familiar voice come through the phone.

 

"Hi, Chuck," you chuckle, grimacing when a new wave a nausea hits you. "You don't have to check up on me, y'know?"

 

"You know I have to see how my favorite client is doing from time to time," he replies.

 

"Well, considering I just mailed out my last and final payment to you; I'm not really your client anymore," you rebut in a snarky tone.

 

"Touché," Chuck laughs. "I just called because there's been a new development."

 

"A new development?" You echo, growing seriously apprehensive. "What? Has Chad decided to be an even bigger asshole than he already is and reverse our divorce or something?" 

 

"Uh, not _exactly_ ," Chuck hesitates before adding, "Are you sitting down?"

 

You look around the bathroom then down at the porcelain toilet bowl you've been retching into for the last twenty minutes. "Uh . . . kinda," you answer, growing slightly uncomfortable with Chuck saying _not exactly_.

 

"My office received a call from Larry Hallaway's attorneys; you knew Mr. Hallaway, correct?"

 

_Holy shit._

 

"Well, yeah," you reply hesitantly, "Larry was my father-in-law, he died years ago." 

 

_What in the actual fuck is going on?_

 

“It’s been brought to my attention that Mr. Hallaway put away a substantial amount of money in a private account before he passed," Chuck tells you.

 

"Okay? What does that have to do with me?" You ask—all sorts of confused.

 

"Well," Chuck chuckles before saying, "Your name is on the account, seems as though Mr. Hallway named you sole executor of it."

 

" _What_?!" You shout into the phone, quickly rising to your feet. "Why would he name _me_ sole executor? He didn't even _like_ me all that much!"

 

"I'm not completely sure, I can't give you all the details over the phone," Chuck says. "How quick can you be back in the city?"

 

"I uh—I don't know," you reply, "Sam's working a job here in town and we don't really have the money to—"

 

"I can leave two plane tickets for tomorrow morning at the airport closest to you," Chuck interrupts, a smile evident in his voice. "I'll even book you two lovebirds a room at that fancy hotel downtown."

 

"Chuck, that's very gracious of you but—"

 

"Y/N, Larry left you this money for a reason—what that reason _is_ , I'm not sure of yet. His attorneys are meeting with me tomorrow to go over everything; you _need_ to be here," Chuck tells you. "Listen, you didn't ask _anything_ of Chad during your divorce, you deserve to have something. His father obviously liked you well enough to leave you millions of dollars and—"

 

"Millions?!" You shriek, your heart nearly beating right out of your chest. "I'm sorry—d-did you just say _millions_ . . . of _dollars_?" 

 

"Yes," Chuck answers simply. "We can discuss this more in depth tomorrow, _please_ say you'll come."

 

"I'll um—I'll talk to Sam," you say in a small voice, hanging up the phone before Chuck has a chance to reply. More nausea comes quickly after, heaving you back to your knees with your head in the porcelain bowl you'd come to know _all_ too well.

 

* * *

 

"Millions?!" Sam roars in shock, making you jump ten feet in the air. "Your ex _father_ -in-law left you _millions_ of dollars? What the fu—" Sam stops pacing suddenly and takes a seat on the couch, not believing what he's hearing.

 

"I guess!" You shout in reply, not believing it yourself. "I have no idea _why_ , though. Chuck says he wants me there for the meeting tomorrow with Larry's attorneys to discuss everything."

 

"Are you gonna go?" Sam asks in a calmer manner, genuinely intrigued and curious.

 

"No," you say before adding, " _We're_ gonna go."

 

"You want _me_ to go?" Sam chuckles.

 

"I need you there, Sam," you tell him as you sit down beside him, taking his hands in yours. "This doesn't just affect me, it affects _us_ —we're engaged now. This is a decision we have to make together." You give him a small smile. "And even if we _don't_ take the money . . . I wanna know why he left it for me."

 

"Okay," Sam smiles back with hesitation. "I'll tell Ellen to hold off on the renovations until I get back."

 

"Really?" You grin widely in response. "Are you sure?"

 

"Yes, baby, I'm sure," he replies. "My woman needs me."

 

"Your _woman_?" You quirk a brow, your voice lowering an octave as you eye him suggestively. "That sounds _sexy_."

 

"Oh, it is _very_ sexy," Sam smirks, pulling you into his arms and giving you a big, long, lip-smoldering kiss.

 

* * *

 

The next day, you and Sam finally make it to the law offices of Shirley & Bradbury— _after_ a four hour flight that morning that consisted of you having to squeeze yourself into the cramped bathroom and puke your guts out every twenty minutes. You had told Sam that it was because you were a nervous flyer and the high altitude made you _very_ nauseous—he had offered to get you a complementary sick bag and some saltine crackers with a Coke to help sooth your tummy.

 

"Are you nervous?" Sam asks you as you both enter the high-class law firm, his hand on the small of your back as he guides you to the front desk. 

 

"Uh, just a little," you chuckle, giving him a small smile. You turn away from him to inform the middle-aged woman behind the desk that you have an appointment with Chuck Shirley. She smiles after checking her book and gives you the go-ahead, pointing you to the elevators and telling you to go up to the tenth floor—even though you don't need much help; you’d been in Chuck's big, fancy office more times than you care to count.

 

The elevator ride up is hell on earth, the sudden jolt of the enclosed space making you even more nauseous than you already were. You mentally praise the heavens when you finally make it up, quickly exiting the elevator with Sam's hand in yours.

 

" _There_ she is!" You hear Chuck before you see him, his friendly smile soon coming into your line of vision. You release Sam's hand as Chuck pulls you into a tight hug— _so_ tight that you can hardly breathe for a split second. You eventually have to tell him he's about to kill you so he'll let you go.

 

"This is Sam," you tell him proudly, grasping at Sam's strong upper arm as you smile ear-to-ear at Chuck.

 

"Ah! So this is the _strapping_ young lad who swept Y/N off her feet in the midst of a divorce," Chuck laughs, quickly taking hold of Sam's hand for a firm handshake.

 

"Uh . . . that would be me . . . I guess?" Sam chuckles nervously, his forehead creasing adorably as he brings his shoulders up in a shrug.

 

"Y/N has had _nothing_ but nice things to say about you; actually, I couldn't get her to shut up about you," Chuck smiles. "You seem like a _much_ better fit than that asshole I helped her get away from."

 

"Thank you, Chuck!" You stop him before he say anything else, giving him a look that says _just_ _shut the hell up already_. Chuck nods and still smiles unabashedly, turning his back to you both and waving a hand over his shoulder to tell you to follow. "I'm sorry about Chuck," you apologize to Sam under your breath, "He's kind of intense in person."

 

"I like him," Sam laughs lightly, "Seems like a hell of a lawyer."

 

"Thank God for _that_ ," you smile up at Sam as you cling to his arm.

 

Chuck ends up guiding you into a huge meeting room where three more professionally-dressed men are already seated. Chuck introduces them as Larry Hallaway's attorneys; three of the sharpest lawyers the west coast has ever seen.

 

"It's very nice to meet you, Miss Y/L/N," One of them—Gabriel, you think; the head lawyer—greets you with a warm handshake. You tell him the same and return the gesture, giving the other two the same treatment before taking a seat across the table from them, between Chuck and Sam.

 

"This is my fiancé Sam, he's here as moral support," you tell them with a warm smile, running a hand across Sam's shoulder blades over his fancy button-up. They all give Sam a nod and a friendly smile.

 

"We were very sorry to hear about your divorce," Gabriel tells you.

 

"Can't say I feel bad about it," you quip, a smirk on your lips. This comment receives chuckles all around the table, making you feel confident and strong giving the circumstance—you _were_ in front of four _very_ diligent and professional men who probably meant _nothing_ but business.

 

"Let's get down to it, shall we?" Gabriel suggests, opening a series of folders that were sitting in front of him on the shiny mahogany table. "Mr. Hallaway made it very clear to us before he passed that he wanted to set aside a part of his own personal wealth for you, one that would become available if you ever initiated a divorce from his son; Chad Hallaway."

 

_Whoa._

 

"Wait. So, Larry left me this money so I could have it if I ever left his son?" You ask, completely blown away. "How could he have been so sure that would happen? He died before our marriage started going wrong."

 

"Your doubts are understandable, Miss Y/L/N," Gabriel smiles. "Mr. Hallway explains it all in a letter he wrote to you before he died, he told us to give it to you if and when you had received a concrete divorce from Chad."

 

"A letter?" You ask in a small voice, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Gabriel nods firmly and slides an envelope across the table towards you. Your hand trembles when you reach out to grab it, the paper meeting your skin sending goosebumps up your arm. You give Sam a quick look of confusion before you open the envelope and pull out a piece of paper. You unfold it with trepidation and nearly burst into tears when you notice the familiar handwriting of your ex father-in-law.

 

> _Dear Y/N,_
> 
>  
> 
> _If you're reading this, then that means you've divorced my son._
> 
> _I can't say I blame you. Chad has always a stubborn, hard-headed, selfish boy, who's cared for nothing more than to pull my company out from under my feet as soon as he could. Leaving it to him will be my final mistake, but ultimately, I was left with no choice. I admire you for leaving him, you're stronger than you care to think. I know I wasn't always the warmest or most welcoming man, but I did care for you. I looked at you like a daughter, mainly due to the fact that I was never able to experience having one of my own. Part of me knew that Chad would end up losing you, one way or another. I'm sorry I wasn't able to save you from that. I'm also sorry that I never got the chance to tell you all of this in person; I suppose I’m to blame for my son’s stubbornness. I know this money won't change the fact that you had to go through what I'm sure you did, but I hope it will give you peace and the life you deserve to have—the one my son wasn't able to give you. I hope this will fix a few of the mistakes that I might have had a hand in without even knowing. I hope your life changes for the better and that you find the happiness you deserve._
> 
> _With all my love,_
> 
> _Larry Royal Hallaway_
> 
> _P.S. Don't spend it all in one place._

 

You laugh through your tears at the last part, trying to hold back the sobs that threaten to rack your body. Sam's hand is warm and soothing on your back, his eyes reading over your shoulder—because Sam's nosey like that.

 

"Why did it take so long for me to find out about this?" You ask Larry's attorneys in a shaky voice. "I've been divorced for over half a year now."

 

"We had to wait for you to drop the Hallaway name completely and return back to your maiden name, it's was one of Mr. Hallaway's final requests. Your maiden name is the one he used for the account, so once the legal documents regarding your name change were approved and filed; it was only then that we could pursue telling Chuck, who told you," Gabriel informs you, giving you a sympathetic smile as he watches more tears fall down your face.

 

"This account was made _very_ private," one of Larry's other attorneys pipes up. "The only people that know about it are the ones sitting in this room right now. Chad will _never_ know about it, and no one in the Hallaway family will ever be notified if you _do_ decide to take the money. That was another one of Mr. Hallaway's requests."

 

"Would you like a minute to think everything over?" Chuck asks you, placing his hand over yours on the table, his eyes shining with utter sincerity as they find yours. You give him a small smile and a nod, giving his hand a quick squeeze before he stands to his feet, ushering the other men out to leave you and Sam alone in the large room.

 

Silence settles over the both of you for a few minutes so you can both think about all the things that had been unveiled in the last hour. "Whatta’ya think?" Sam suddenly asks in almost a whisper, his warm yes finding yours when you look over at him.

 

"I don't know," you answer honestly. "What do _you_ think?"

 

"I asked you first," Sam chuckles lightly.

 

You give him a small smile then look back down at the table, the letter laying upon it like it was a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. You decide then to tell Sam what you've been keeping from him for _days_ now—maybe even weeks. "This is probably _the_ worst timing of the century . . . but I need to tell you something, Sam," you say, nervously chewing at your bottom lip.

 

"You're gonna take the money and dump me, aren't ya?" Sam deadpans jokingly, a small playful smile on his lips.

 

"Would you just listen and be serious for like _five_ _seconds_?" You laugh, rolling your eyes at him before growing nervous all over again—a little nauseous as well.

 

"Okay," Sam's voice softens, his eyes assuring as he nods. "What's goin' on, baby?"

 

You take a deep breath before telling him, "I'm pregnant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs like a maniac* Come _on_. We all saw this comin'.
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, maybe not the _millions of dollars_ part . . .


	8. Me & You Makes Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sammy make your decision, and end up celebrating in the best way there is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, y'all! I promised you guys this update over a week ago, but just my luck . . . my wifi went out and just got cut back on. So, if you'll forgive me; here's the new chapter!

"Pregnant?" Sam gapes, his eyes wide and his mouth sputtering to utter more words. "Like . . . as in, there's a _baby_ . . . growin' inside you _right now_?"

"Yes," you whisper, looking down at your hands as you nervously pick at your thumb nail. "I'm not one hundred percent sure yet, but I took a pregnancy test a few days before we came here and it was positive. I was going to set up a doctor's appointment after I told you, but Chuck called before I could and everything got hectic and confusing and—“

"Baby—"

"And I'm not telling you this to make you feel like we have to take this money. I've just been throwing up for the past few weeks and my period never came this month and I've been emotional and—"

"Y/N, stop," Sam chuckles after halting your rambling, grabbing your face in his hands and making you look at him. "Are you sure you're pregnant?" He asks, nothing but hope and love in his eyes.

"Not completely, but I—I think so," you reply, tears welling up in your eyes as you look into his. "I mean, we won't know for sure until we see a doctor and false positives happen all the—"

You don't even get to finish your sentence before Sam's pressing his lips up against yours to shut you up, the kiss sweet and close-lipped and filled with heart-stopping love. You sigh against his mouth, pulling away after a few seconds and placing your forehead against his, nuzzling your nose along the slant of his.

"We should take the money," Sam whispers, trailing a hand through your hair and the other along the length of your arm.

"Are you sure?" You ask.

"Yeah," Sam smiles as he pulls back far enough to look in your eyes. "We can buy our house instead of just renting it. And we can have that dream wedding you're always talkin' about, even that _godawful_ swan ice-sculpture you want, and that DJ we liked but couldn't afford. We can set up a college fund for the baby so they don't have to worry about it when they're older. We can give this kid the best life and the best of everything. All our other future kids, too."

"All our other kids?" You laugh through your tears.

"Yeah, I want four," Sam grins.

" _Four_?!" You shout in a whisper. Sam just grins even harder and nods, giving you another kiss, his chuckle vibrating through it.

After a few more minutes of the two of you acting like that couple that everybody fake gags over, you and Sam walk hand-in-hand out of the office. You're greeted by four anxiously awaiting lawyers, two of which are chewing on their fingernails rather unprofessionally.

"We're gonna take the money," you tell them.

They all give you smiles and nod, Chuck's smile the biggest of all. You're taken into an office where you're asked to sign mountains of paperwork. Your eyes nearly bug out when you look at the bottom line of the last one where a big, fat _**4,000,000**_ sits glaring at you. Sam nearly passes out.

After signing on the last dotted line and initialing beside the final amount, Chuck pulls you up into a hug. You hug back like your life depends on it, repeating _thank you_ over and over again before you finally burst into tears. You give Larry's attorneys hugs as well and bid them farewell before you and Sam head towards the elevators.

"How 'bout some lunch?" Sam asks when you exit the building and feel the cool breeze blowing.

"Why don't we just go to the hotel and order some room service?" You question back, giving him a suggestive smile.

Sam smirks, his eyes glittering the sun as he replies with, "Is my girl feelin' frisky?"

"We're millions of dollars richer and I'm possibly pregnant with your baby, Sam Winchester—I've never felt friskier in my life," you smile, lacing your hand in his and pulling him along in the direction of the lavish hotel where Chuck had booked you a room as promised.

By the time you two reach the room, Sam’s already hard as rock. You can feel him against your lower belly as he softly presses you up against the wall next to the door he just kicked shut. He bends his knees and grabs at your thighs, hauling you up with ease so you can wrap your legs around his waist, his lips claiming yours easily.

"I love you," Sam whispers once he's pulled back to breathe.

"And I love you," you whisper back, smiling when he wraps his arms around your body to hold you against him as he walks over to the bed, his embrace secure and safe. He gently lays you down on it, being more cautious than he usually would have been considering the circumstances.

Sam remains fully clothed once he's stripped you naked with tender hands and soft tugs. He blankets you with his warmth as he covers your neck with open mouth kisses, his tongue snaking out every once and while to lick at your skin. You mewl and gasp under him, your hands fisting at the back of his pale blue button-up, your legs falling open to accommodate his strong hips between them. You fists his long hair hair once his mouth finds one of your peaked nipples, his tongue hot and wet against it. When he sucks it into his mouth you cry out, noticing that the feeling is more electrified and pleasurable than usual—a good sign in your eyes.

Sam's eyes watch your face when he flattens his tongue against the tender, fleshy bud, his black slacks growing even tighter in response. He moves to the other nipple, giving it the same attention until you're moaning and crying out his name as you rock your hips up under him. He trails his lips down the center of your torso, stopping just above your belly button to press a long, close-lipped kiss into the skin there. You gnaw at your bottom lip in anticipation, letting your head fall back when he grabs your knees and spreads your thighs even wider as he positions his head between them. You shiver when you feel his hair brush along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, gasping and throwing your hands out to the sides to grasp at the luxurious bedcovers.

"Oh yes!" You call out when he dives in, pressing his tongue right up against your throbbing clit. He moves it right-to-left quickly, his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds them open. Your body jolts from the sudden pleasure, Sam's tongue working magic like it always does. How you managed to find a man who knew his way around a clit was your greatest blessing.

Sam hums against you, pulling a hand away from one of your thighs to easily slide his long middle finger up inside your sopping pussy. You know he's not playing around because he almost immediately curves it into a come hither way and finds your g-spot in seconds, pushing and pressing against it as he continues to assault your clit in the best possible way with his hot tongue. He has you coming just a few minutes later, your lips pressed together as you whimper and grind down against his mouth, clenching around the lone finger he has thrusting inside you in the most perfect way.

You're still dizzy with pleasure when you push him away and climb up on your knees, pushing him over onto his back and throwing a leg over his lap so you can straddle him. You find his mouth, kissing him with parted lips and licking the taste of yourself from his tongue. You blindly start unbuttoning his shirt, tugging the bottom of it from his slacks and separating the lapels once you've successfully got all the pesky buttons loosened. You pull away from his lips and start kissing down his neck, giving his defined clavicles some lavish attention before teething and kissing down his chest and stomach. You bring your head up to look into his eyes when you get down to his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tearing the leather from the metal that held it. You bite at your bottom lip as you pop the button of his slacks and slide the zipper down, reaching into the soft cotton of his boxer-briefs to finally pull his hard cock out.

You give Sam a quick smile before lowering your head to take him into your mouth, mentally having decided on skipping the teasing, the overwhelming need to have him between your lips winning. You moan as you suck him down, twirling your tongue around the tender head every time you pull back up, the heady flavor of his precome covering it. "Fuck, baby," Sam moans, trying to keep his head up so he can watch, his eyelids growing heavy as pleasure runs up his spine. He cards his hands through your hair, holding it out of your face as you continue the steady bob you have going on. He admires the way your eyes have fallen shut, your sole focus on tasting him and giving him what he loves.

When you feel yourself dripping between your thighs, you pull your mouth off of him and sit back on your knees, your hands tugging at his bottoms. Sam is quick to help, pushing them down and kicking them away as he sits up to tear his open shirt all the way off so he's wearing nothing but a wanton pair of eyes. Yours match his as you climb into his lap, one hand on his shoulder for support and the other between your bodies to line his cock up with your weeping pussy. You slide down onto him without any hesitation, moaning loudly at the feeling of him filling you up only the way he can. Sam wraps his arms around your waist, releasing a deep rumble of pleasure as you start riding his lap with well-practiced skill.

"Fuck yeah, just like that, baby," he encourages you, pressing his forehead against yours as he runs his hands up your back. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding your fingers up into the hair at the back of his head, holding his forehead to yours as you pop your hips like it were a champion sport. "God, I fuckin' love you," Sam moans, grasping at your waist to push you down fully onto his cock so he's buried deep inside you, causing you to cry out his name in a raspy voice. You let your head fall back, mewling when Sam trials his tongue up the front column of your throat, lapping at your salty, sweat-slick skin.

Through you sex-crazed haze, you pull a hand away from Sam's hair to push it between your writhing bodies, two of your soft fingertips finding your swollen clit to rub quickly. You jerk in Sam's arms at the added factor, screaming out in pure ecstasy as the pleasure you're feeling doubles instantly. "I'm gonna come, Sam," you whimper, bringing your head back up to look in his heavily-lidded eyes.

"God yes, come for me, wanna feel you come just for me," he husks, pressing his lips into yours as he releases the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard. You gasp and moan into his mouth, so close to blissful release that you can taste it. You continue to twirl your fingers around your throbbing bundle of nerves, the movement of your hips growing more frantic with every passing second. You're coming before you have time to think about it, crying out against Sam's mouth as you shake with pleasure in his arms, your body trembling as electricity-like bliss explodes inside you, leaving flecks of white in your vision as you let your self drown in it. "That's it, baby, gonna make me come, too," Sam tells you, holding your quivering body against his as he shakes under you, spilling inside you seconds later, his mouth open and expelling hot pants against your shoulder as he drowns in his own release.

Once you've both been exhausted by your orgasms, Sam still holds you. He rans a hand through your dampened hair, kissing at your flush cheeks with sweet, slow lips. You're still trying to catch your breath, your hands holding Sam's strong shoulders tightly as your body tries to return back to a normal functioning manner. "I love you, Sam," you tell him a breathy whisper, pressing your forehead up against his.

"I love you more," he chuckles lightly.

"Huh-uh," you laugh back, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug. Sam grunts at the force, wrapping his arms around your middle in response. After a while, once you've almost fully recovered, you say, "I should probably call to set up a doctor's appointment for when we get back."

"Okay, just not yet, I wanna hold you for a while," Sam smiles into your hair. You smile, too, still holding him close to you. "Does this mean you have to call me 'Daddy' now?" Sam suddenly asks after a few minutes of silence.

You pull back away from him to give him an unamused look. "You just had to ruin the moment, didn't you? Just couldn't contain yourself for just a little bit longer," you gripe as you roll your eyes, smoldering a smile and shaking your head at him.

"What? It was a fair question," Sam grins, trying to pull you back to him when you move away from him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is such a filler chapter but things will get back on the crazy track here soon :)
> 
> Good crazy . . . kinda . . . maybe not.
> 
> You'll just have to wait and see!


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